


FIGMENTS

by RRediKON



Series: MIRAGE [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: A-N-G-S-T, Angst, Author gonna rest for forever now, But softly, Detailed description of Smut, Detailed description of angst themes, ENJOY IT, Hallucinations, Healing, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, I did too, LMAO, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mind Games, Mindfuckery tbh, Mystery, P.S, Psychological Horror, Psychology, Romance, Schizophrenia, Slight horror, Smut, Suspense, Triggers, a lot of confusion as well, everyone is gonna fall for Mingi, everything makes sense later, her brain cells are crying, just saying, no yelling at author after you finish, one last warning this one is serious, or maybe, or maybe yell, proceed with caution please, second-lead syndrome, they say hi, this is also fucked me as I wrote it, this is heavy!, whatever you expect from this story it is not gonna be it, yes this big I’m sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23045296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RRediKON/pseuds/RRediKON
Summary: I think by the end of it, for everyone out there, it’s all about finding a haven, a place to exist in and feel real when it’s true, in fact,real.How hard would it be? To find that ambiguous place, for a person to reside finally and rest their body and mind, after spending their whole life running and running and running from everything and everyone.Including themselves.'Go tell him, he will forgive you… he loves you.'
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Series: MIRAGE [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1663852
Comments: 18
Kudos: 59





	FIGMENTS

**Author's Note:**

> This is not fantasy. This is reality. 

  
-

-

-

_Wake Up_

-

-

**Prologue**

The house was empty and eerily quiet. Hongjoong stood half-naked in the bathroom, barefoot on the damp tiles and water slithering down his skin. He could see himself reflected in the smudged mirror, the hollows around his hazy eyes, his ashen face and messed up wet hair. He could hear the ticks of the clock from the hallway resonating through the crack of the opened door along with the water leaking from the faucet into the rather archaic bathtub.

His vision fluctuated with his focus, a tenacious migraine at the back of his head that’s been present for ages; he gripped the edge of the sink as he gasped noiselessly. This wasn’t novel, the hammering pulsation wasn’t, the hollowness wasn’t, the glooms lurking and the voices weren’t.

 _‘How long will you stay like this?’_ the intonation in the room asked him. A repetitive demand they had always grilled him with. His misty eyes looked at the mirror and murky silhouettes skipped in his vision. A chill twirled on his body, prickling under his skin as they circled him, their sounds echoing the space along with the continuous slow tapping of the water and his thundering heartbeats. The vacant dim house heightening his senses and he could feel an inhalation on his left cheek—

The shadows formed a hovering distorted face beside his own in the reflection and he held in a lungful— they whispered against his sweating cold skin—

_‘When will you understand, it’s all in your head.’_

-

-

**MIRAGE**

-

-

-

Those who fell into the depths of their worst hollows would always wonder one thing. The thing they search for amongst everything, the most desirable; the most _needed_.

Happiness _._

What was the taste of happiness? It would become a common question for those people who lost touch with the surface for too long. They would wonder how it would feel, to be genuinely happy, _again_.

It’s a hard question. So hard. Especially, when one didn’t remember what happiness was to look for it and where to look for, to begin with.

Hongjoong always wondered, was curious how he lost the lights he had always shined, how he became the dull boy after all the years he spent shining like the brightest star between thickly clouded skies.

People loved him for his energy, the redhead from the C-Class, the prankster who no one had the heart to hate or hold grudges against because he was the happiness that passed everyone, the rainbow that laid colors in overcast days.

He was funny, energetic, people adored him, students and teachers did. He had always been the smart boy who nailed exams with zero to little effort, joked about how gifted he was.

He did art for fun then got bored and did gaming then also got bored and played some sports with the school’s teams. Everyone knew him for how various and unpredictable he was, loved him for how genuine, how real, how he seemed like optimism was his second or maybe first name.

He never bothered about a bad mark, never cared about a call out, never took offense in everything, he just loved to live alive, live free and untamed, always joyful, carefree and flourishing.

Loved to think his life wasn’t going to be a replica of others, wanted to be different, wanted a unique story to live. He wanted to think he got an adventure ahead where he met people daily, made memories, laughed and moved on like his life was some sort of a movie series to go through and he was the main character of the franchise.

Even when he cried, even when some days clouded him, he still thought it was needed as a part of the storyline. He was never alone; the other characters always saved him and brought smiles back to his face because they had always told him ‘sadness doesn’t suit you’

He believed it didn’t, the lights in his eyes were the hope and happiness of many.

His friends. His friends were his safety; even when his parents passed away and he went deep down they were there to hold him on two stable feet. They were there to remind him that life moved on and he had plenty of days to smile for, laugh for, and live for.

He was just, the center of everything and everyone. When friends fought he made himself the middle ground for them to come back, when lovers quarreled, he made sure they kissed by the end of the day.

When teachers wanted to reprimand someone he would talk to them and try to lessen whatever the punishment or detention was, took detentions in many students' place because he thought he wanted them happy instead.

Making people happy always satisfied him. It was as if he thrived off the lights the others shone. So he made sure they shined the brightest even if it meant people fed on him. It made him feel good about himself that his existence meant something to somebody.

He was animated, imaginary. It was his mistake he decided to live inside his head, believe life was a different scenario for him; believe he was different. He wasn’t and it wasn’t a movie like how he imagined it to be.

It was real life, and real-life should be treated as real as it’s supposed to be.

He thought giving his lights for others to feed their brightness would keep his star shining forever.

But he kept giving and giving and giving, he didn’t realize all the lights he had were a reflection of theirs and he had none left.

He didn’t have any, to begin with. All he had was a reflective surface that mirrored whatever others wanted him to show, they wanted happiness? He showed happiness. They wanted fun? He showed fun. They wanted drama and action and all those theatrical days so he gave them those extraordinary memories thinking he somehow was making a movie from those scenes. Thought he was making his life more exciting, a bit relevant. 

He wasn’t. It wasn’t. It was all _fake_. He should have woken up then as he was told repeatedly. Why didn’t he?

Sometimes he even wondered if he was living inside his head all that time. If all of this was realistic. He never found out. He would open a journal and write down his days, how his tale was moving on so far.

It was in college when everything started to simmer down bit by bit.

His high school friends were gone, contact kept on phone and group chats they were too busy to remember opening.

It was fun at first, he was still a redhead in his delusion thinking he could be the main star in his new class as well, college wasn’t high school though.

At first, people loved him, everyone was his friend, he even had a ridiculous crush on his classmate also known as his best friend.

All the memories and laughs, the outings and all those parties and movie nights and all those people he called friends.

The love he had for that boy for a long time, how the boy deluded him into believing there was something in between, how he took advantage of him just because he was the center, he wanted the spot as well so he stuck around, faked everything, took his all firsts like he was the one meant to be.

How when he told him he loved him he said _‘I love you too.’_

How naïve and in love he was, how blind to see he was being used, he spent all his love there, he was the type of person to never fall in love but when he did, he gave up everything, himself included.

He would tell him but the boy would say he wanted him but he wasn’t sure?

What wasn’t sure when he had all of him?

It made him insecure, what did he lack? What fault? He would fix himself, he would change and accommodate to be loved back by the only person he wanted.

It was all fake, it was all a game, a lie. His best friend was there to listen to his worries.

It was nice when his best friend told him he wasn’t at fault that he was perfect, he didn’t need him in his life. That he should leave him and free himself.

‘He doesn’t deserve you, you are more than him’

Funny how he found both cheating on him with each other.

Funny when his best friend cried as if that would justify their deception. Was he supposed to feel sorry about it?

It was sick because when the three of them used to sit together he would notice a tension between the two but he was so pure, he would never doubt either of them. His boyfriend and best friend.

All the lies they fed him, all the words they muttered in him, the deceiving ‘I love you’s’ they said in his face.

The betrayal, the agony, the hurt, the sense of rejection and the hard times he tried to accept the bitter truth, within a day he lost his two favorite people.

Was he that blinded?

Sick and self-dubious; how they tried to justify themselves by blaming him as if he was the one marred.

Disgusting, how he would miss him at days, disgusting how he would wake up from nightmares about his awful parents and would call him at late hours of nights in desperate need of a presence.

Disgusting, when he would beg to see him because he missed him like no air and he couldn’t breathe. When he would break down in front of him but… but he wouldn’t even blink an eye…? He would cry in front of him but then he would just… walk away?

His friends always told him he was stupid, he should accept that he was never loved, to begin with. Days showed their true colors when people started to tell him about all the sick things both his ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend said and did behind his back.

He was devastated he wouldn’t believe they even called him a… psycho? They convinced everyone he was mental, they showed him and it tore him apart. He thought for the first time it was better to give up and die maybe.

That decision was almost made at one night but his friends were quick to be there for him.

‘You have us, we will never hurt you’ they said, and he shouldn’t believe after that huge betrayal but he wanted to live and he didn’t mind if he hung up to lies if it kept him breathing.

They say you should fear your close people before any stranger you meet.

It was sick the things they had done, he wondered who he should believe anymore, they tore him apart and left him shredded with no means to sew himself back together.

He almost believed them when they looked at him like he was… a freak… was he really a freak?

Trust issues and paranoia, traumatic from the simple thoughts of trusting anyone, from handing himself to anyone; he lived with his sick grandmother. She never questioned why his bangs were long or why sometimes his eyes looked red.

How the red no longer painted his hair but it filled his eyes.

He cried so much, some days he couldn’t breathe, sometimes he would panic until his heart wanted to stop in his chest. He sometimes feared it would halt with the intensity of his heaving.

It was always dark hours and sleepless nights; days without eating would make him light on his feet. He would collapse some days and his classmates would help him, some were genuinely worried about him. He wanted to believe their sincerity but he was scared and distrustful, those people were the same who would hurt him, would call him crazy later.

Because beginnings were always more pretty, then it would only get uglier and uglier.

Nothing remains the same, everything changes; people change, priorities shift, promises break and only pain remains as it is.

As simple as that.

At first, it was an excruciating pain, but it dulled with the consistency of it. It remained as a continuous ache he had at the back of his heart. It always resurfaced when he was close to trusting anyone.

He hated people. He hated interacting with anyone.

It wasn’t a sudden realization. The changes happened slowly, gravely. He didn’t even notice the long-lasting effects of them, the critical outcome of it all.

He didn’t notice at some point he stopped reflecting everyone’s lights, how he was reduced to a dull star that lost its glows along with all the sorrows.

He was so focused on keeping his wounds close he didn’t notice he was losing himself more by the days.

It wasn’t until one time his high school friends wanted a reunion, they saw him the first time in a year and the first thing one of them said: _‘life gives people a lot, but it seems like it took so much from you.’_ He broke down in pieces as if all the efforts he spent to keep them together meant nothing.

They told him to go back but how easy was it getting that done?

It was close to impossible.

He preferred loneliness, loneliness meant fewer people, and fewer people was less pain and less agony.

Therefore, he stayed home. He liked his grandmother; it was nice to have someone who he didn’t fear turning their back on him.

He took care of her, he would talk and keep casualties with his classmates but he never indulged himself too much for them to be more than simple friends, when he came back home he would clean, make food for his grandmother and they would watch reruns of shows much older than him.

It was fine. No people, no pain.

He could live like that, he didn’t go out much, spent his time writing or reading books, indulging himself in stories he knew he would never live about perfect endings and lives filled with adventures and friendships to make journeys more fun.

It was good, it was quiet and okay,

He was too comfortable in the safety of his familiar space.

He didn’t realize he wasn’t living anymore.

One night he had a panic attack and almost stopped his heart in the cries he let out.

Because he realized he had fallen so low, he had fallen and decided to remain there. He looked up and the surface never looked that far away before he felt like choking, so out of reach.

His room felt so small, his life felt too insignificant that if he one day disappeared no one would notice at all.

He realized if he wanted to tell someone about his day there was no _real_ person to do. He realized no one had asked him how he was in months.

He realized even if he had someone to tell his day to he didn’t have anything to say. He wasn’t living, aside from breathing and eating— he was better considered dead.

It got worse from there. It was around that time he started hearing voices, seeing shadows, lurking forms roaming around him.

Especially, when his grandmother got hospitalized and the doctors told him she wouldn’t live long. He lost it, he begged the doctors to keep her alive as if they had a tap on her day.

He realized once his one remaining family was gone, he was on his own and on top of it he was going insane when the forms became more aggressive. They always screamed at him, cried in his house, told him to _‘Wake up’_

The small house felt too big, the food not as appetizing, the isolation too suffocating he wanted to scream.

He was stuck, where could he get out? Where would he go? It was a thick metal chain snug around his neck that kept tugging and tugging as if his flesh could withstand the harsh digs.

He cried, he was scared; he didn’t have anyone to tell he was scared— to tell about the shadows surrounding him. He considered his high school friends, but they were far away, in other regions and countries. He wanted a physical touch to ground him and tell him he would somehow find himself out soon.

That his life would go back on track and this wasn’t permanent.

Where did everything go so wrong?

Where did he forget the taste of happiness? What did happiness even mean? Where had he gone _insane_?

The last course of his final year he spent it dug between his books, he wanted distraction and to graduate. He wanted everything to finish and be done with the place that ruined him.

It was the day she died he lost it, he was on his way to a job interview when the hospital called him, said to come see her.

He was… left alone.

Maybe he wasn’t strong enough. The small funeral he had for her because he didn’t have anyone; few neighbors, some old people who knew her from the care center she frequented when she was part healthy.

He cried until his eyes burned, he didn’t eat for days, no lights were on in his house for straight three days he just laid on the sofa basked in nothingness.

When his grandmother left, the voices and the silhouettes did too. It was weird but when he returned home, it was dead quiet.

However, the silence was too loud.

A cruel question had inhabited his head then.

Why was he alive?

No family, no friends, no job, no one to go back to, nothing to look forward to, nothing, his life was nothing it was as if he was transparent.

What if he disappeared right there and then in the darkness of his room? No one would know.

Who would?

He was slipping in and out of consciousness, didn’t know if his head was in the right place or if he was aware enough if he was awake or maybe not— was whatever he was doing real or just fragments of his hallucinating brain?

 _Stay Awake._ A resonance kept nagging him urgently, it almost cried for him to remain conscious— Why the desperation? The echoes never treated him that way—

He walked the night streets; the chill was awful in his thin clothes, not enough for a November night. It was quiet, cold tears on his cheeks and hiccups rocking his small body. His vision once again blurred and twisted and his surroundings kept merging and flipping upside down sickeningly. The streets were empty as he walked without purpose. He kept hitting his head as he stumbled, whenever his mind threatened of collapsing, he clawed at his skin and pulled his hair harshly— anything aside falling back into that loop—

But what was he supposed to do?

He couldn’t take this anymore. The pain was too awful. Existing in his own body felt claustrophobic and he felt trapped— nowhere to go. Nowhere to run from his head, from who he was.

Where would a lost soul reside? Where would he go? Whom would he go to?

Was he lost?

He was frightened— he was desolate, he was aimless.

_Stay Awake—_

He crashed to the ground, in the middle of an empty street. He looked at the sky and no star shined on him, no guidance, nowhere to follow. He closed his eyes with a choked breath, biting air cutting his throat but he wasn’t conscious enough, so maybe he passed out, did he pass out?

Did he forget already? What did he forget? Why was he here again?

_Stay Awake!_

When he raised a hand to wipe his face, he felt thick wetness smear on his skin, he lifted the shaky hand to the sky above him; drops were landing on his face.

Thick red drops.

.

.

.

.

. 

**_FIGMENTS_**

.

.

.

.

.

Hongjoong woke up in his apartment, a persistent headache knocking against his skull intensely, he stumbled up and his whole body felt rigid and tight as if he was broken in every place possible.

He groaned as he descended the stairs to his kitchen, fetched himself a poorly made cup of tea and drank it with some biscuits he had in the cabinet, he then followed it with a sedative for his headache.

He sat on the sofa and leaned back, closed his eyes to let the headache simmer down and after an agonizing thirty minutes he felt the throbbing calm a bit, he sighed in relief.

He remained in the quiet of the room for a while, seated on the same spot as his eyes lingering on the pictures of him and his grandma beside the flat screen of the TV. 

It’s been four months since she passed away, the separation sort of subsided to another leaden ache at the back of his heart so he could move on and live properly, or as proper it could get with how empty everything felt.

It was today he had to go out for a job interview he had, as impassive as he felt, he still dragged himself up knowing fully well he wouldn’t get it— for his lack of enthusiasm and passion, like how they always had told him. 

He sported clean clothes of a white shirt and black dress pants. His white-grey hair he dyed lately put in tamed curls and he looked as always, pale and misty-eyed, it was the way his eyes cloaked after his grandma’s departure. He wondered if his eyes would one day gain back their brightness. If a star lent him their lights for temporary relief; or maybe, dare he ask for, something close to happiness.

He wanted some, he forgot the feeling, why was happiness so hard to feel where the negative feelings were the easiest and the fastest ones to appear and diverge.

It was unfair.

He headed to his interview, the walk to the bus was quiet, the ride as well. Despite so many people being there, he still felt he wasn’t.

When would the feeling of transparency fade out? He wanted to _exist_ , to feel included in life.

He was tired, he wanted to collapse in someone’s arms and just, let it all out, break down and let them mend him back together. Unlike how he was used to do all his life, break down and pick himself up messily as best as he could manage after.

Even as he sat outside the interview room with other applicants, he still felt like he wasn’t there. People wouldn’t bat an eye for his existence like he was a mere remnant of the dust of a burnt-out star lingering in the air that people kept seeing through.

Why did he bother coming here at all? If those normal people didn’t acknowledge his presence, would the people at the other side of the door do?

He took the papers out with him as he exited the room. It was just a pointless hustle. He might have stayed in bed and saved himself the meaningless trouble.

He didn’t have the heart to feel upset or angry, at that point, it was measly to be surprised by how awful his life had become, maybe if he had died or something that night, it would have been much better, if he got to be honest.

He was so self-absorbed he didn’t notice the man running his way, he dodged last second but was slammed with an opened glass door of a café house by the sidewalk. 

He stopped to groan at the pain erupting from his nose as he rubbed it to lessen the throbbing; eyes scrunched shut, he didn’t see the man getting out to check on him.

“Hey,” he didn’t think it was pointed at him, it was a gentle call, plus, no one addressed him in a while now. “Hey, you okay? Oh god, you are bleeding!” Hongjoong felt a hand tug at his shoulder. He was pulled out of his focus to meet the concerned eyes pouring into his and Hongjoong froze.

When was the last time someone looked at him in the eyes like this?

Looked at him as if he _existed._

He stood there with dilated eyes and parted lips. He might have felt warm drops flowing down in his daze but he was lost in the troubled boy who was fawning over him. He didn’t notice said boy grab a handkerchief and push it to his nose not so gently— what was it about nosebleeds— wait, nosebleeds?

He frowned as he reached a hand to touch the trails of warm wetness, eyes crossing in a stupid attempt to look at his nose but he was quickly smacked on the head lightly and his eyes shot back to the boy who was half frowning half glaring at him “Don’t cross your eyes, they will get stuck.” 

The boy scolded as he shifted the cloth to a dry part and pressed more, he used his other hand to tug at his hair back and he shifted his head up in obligation “Keep it like this and follow me.”

The boy led him inside and he kept his head tugged backward, breathing through his mouth.

“Hey Seonghwa, where are you going?” the man behind the cashier called and the boy holding the cloth threw him a glance, Seonghwa was his name “Treating this boy, he got slammed into the door!”

“How many times did I tell you to not keep the doors open!” the other boy shouted and Seonghwa bit his lip nervously “Sorry Yunho! I forgot!” Hongjoong heard the Yunho person stress about fetching someone to fix the doors and how he should have done it long before. Who would make a door that opened to the outside anyway? 

Hongjoong watched the Seonghwa boy fret about him in the bathroom, “Let me wash it for you,” Hongjoong wanted to tell the boy he was fine, he could handle a nosebleed but he was so absorbed in wetting another towel, rubbing his face clean, “God your white shirt is stained, do you have an important appointment?”

“I…” Hongjoong’s voice came out hoarse, hadn’t been used in… since when? It sounded foreign to his ears and weird in a way, he almost forgot how to form words or communicate with other people. 

He must have taken a while because the boy was pouring more nervous energy, biting on his lip in what seemed like a habit of his “I’m fine… fine don’t worry about it…”

The words were weak, did nothing to calm the other boy who rubbed another trail of blood for him, he once again glided a hand to the back of his head and tugged at his hair gently to keep him in place. 

The feeling of human touch was as foreign to him the same way being in the presence of someone who had noticed his existence. Hongjoong felt cautious of his own every move and word, not sure how to communicate with other humans— now what a drastic life you have Hongjoong. He averted his eyes down but the boy tugged at his hair a little roughly.

“Keep your head up until it stops. I will fetch you a clean shirt, don’t have only a simple purple short sleeve but hope it works in place of yours.” The boy rambled for a bit, “Hold it for me,” when he took a while to respond, Seonghwa took his hand and put it on the towel and he realized he should keep it in place.

The boy disappeared for a while then returned with the purple shirt “I’m sorry it’s worn but like, for barely thirteen minutes,” the boy nagged “I took a bath this morning and wore it then took it off the first I came here—”

“Calm down,” the words were quiet when whispered under the towel “Thanks for the shirt.” Hongjoong took it from his hand, the boy, a bit taller than him looked down with bitten lips, and they stared for a while.

Dull eyes meeting glassy ones; it seemed like they reflected so many lights in them, even the artificial ones of the bathroom. They looked pretty, Hongjoong noted as he averted his gaze sideways instead of down “Can you get out, please?” there was a bit of pink dusting the boy’s face before he gabbed and fumbled with his words “Sorry, will be waiting outside!'' The boy realized he had to go for Hongjoong to change and stumbled out.

When Hongjoong changed into the shirt, it swallowed his pitied body almost completely. It had a faint fragrance in the fabric that Hongjoong smelled hesitantly; it’s been a while since he smelled something so distant, something unfamiliar and far from the scents he was used to for years.

He grabbed his stained shirt out with him, towel replaced with paper ones since the bleeding stopped somewhat. When Seonghwa noticed him walking out the hallway, he immediately sprinted to him, paused a bit to take a look “Well, guess it's a couple of sizes bigger.”

To say Hongjoong was astounded by the smile would be an understatement; he missed the feeling of someone smiling back at him so… _beautifully_. 

He immediately averted his gaze again as he clenched the shirt in his hand “At least it’s not Yunho’s, you would swim in his clothes.” He chuckled freely as if they were… friends. “Oh, that’s Yunho by the way.” Hongjoong glanced at where Seonghwa was pointing and he saw the boy from before who was scolding him “Oh.” Was his only reply.

Seonghwa frowned at him “You feel dizzy or something?” He sounded worried, “Let me treat you for a drink, it’s on the house.” With the lack of response, Hongjoong was dragged to one of the tables and sat down by a slight force since he didn’t fight back the beaming boy. 

Said boy went and returned with a big mug of what seemed like fruit mix “Would feel energizing for you.” He simply said and it wasn’t like Hongjoong liked the drink but it tasted like the man in front of him, refreshing, cold against scalding skin, light and breezy.

Everything that Hongjoong wasn’t; or what he was in years back he couldn’t recall these days even if he wanted to, which he didn’t.

“Thanks,” Hongjoong might have remembered some manners when he sipped on the drink and the boy beamed so wide. Why was he sitting with him? Shouldn’t he be out there working, giving the apron and outfit he was wearing?

“What’s your name?” the boy asked and Hongjoong retreated his hands to fiddle with his fingers under the table. Wow, he was having a conversation. He was talking to another human, this was so out of his zone, he didn’t interact with people, he hadn't talked to anyone in so long, since he graduated, since his last job interview before his grandmother’s death “Hong… Joong… Kim Hongjoong...” he mumbled softly.

“I’m Park Seonghwa, nice to meet you.” Why the boy looked that much into his eyes, they weren’t as amiable, weren’t pleasant to look into. Why he never broke eye contact and still smiling as brightly “Nice to meet you, I guess…”

“How is your drink?” Seonghwa tried to make a conversation and Hongjoong sank on himself, feeling extra cautious when he replied “Nice…” 

“Thanks, I made it.” The boy smiled and god how it was pretty, Hongjoong couldn’t stop himself from staring until the boy cracked a laugh and tilted his head. He blushed, he was sure he did but before the boy could comment, the cashier called out for him, the Yunho guy, “Feel free to frequent here, I can always make you delicious drinks or whatever you would want.” Hongjoong wanted to thank him but the boy was quick to sprint on his feet, attending to other customers. He found himself so lost in studying the boy’s look, his dark curly hair, the earrings hanging off his ears, the pretty sharp yet elegant features and the smiles he afforded people unreservedly, his glowing skin and perfect body proportions, he was… _flawless_.

Hongjoong hissed when he realized he had dug his fingers too deep in his palms; he made small cuts; he immediately grabbed his shirt and fleeted the place, very oblivious to the looks trailing his back.

-

-

-

-

-

It was a few days later. Hongjoong laid on his bad, basking in the darkness of his room with his mind going over the messages in his phone, asking him to meet with his old friends. He didn’t feel like getting up or seeing them, he didn’t want them to point out his hassled looks or the pity they regarded him with.

He closed his phone, flipped on his back to stare at the ceiling. Once again, his mind fled back to the café boy, Seonghwa. Such a pretty name fitting for a pretty face.

It wasn’t the first nor the second time his head made a turn back to him since then, he pictured it clear in his mind as if he was there in front of him, the dazzling eyes staring into his, focused on him like no other looked at him before or in a long while.

He felt giddy and small, yet he still wanted the calm and warmth the attention brought to him, he wanted to exist for real— once again.

In so long for once a human made him feel it, the missing emotion, the sudden drive to go out and talk and meet him, to live maybe. 

Perhaps was this the turning point where his life would magically go back into order by the sudden appearance of a person that would show him how real life was supposed to be? 

Maybe he read too many books and watched countless shows. He was deadpanned on the nonexistence of these but, what if?

Hongjoong looked sideways at the washed purple shirt on the back of his desk chair.

He didn’t realize he was already on his feet, shirt in hand as he strode outside his house, on his way where that café house was.

When he was about to step in a boy stopped him, different from the two he recognized working there “Sorry we are closing,” Hongjoong looked at his phone and it was 11 pm.

He looked down in disappointment “Oh, it’s fine.” He turned around to leave but suddenly stopped and turned around to the boy “Hey,” the boy looked at him “Can you hand this to Seonghwa…?” he hesitantly handed the shirt and the boy nodded with an earnest smile “Sure.” 

“Jongho, what is taking you so long?” someone called him from the inside “Oh, a boy was waiting here—” Hongjoong didn’t make up the rest of the conversation when he returned his way from where he came.

A heavy feeling in his chest at gaining nothing from this, also losing the chance to talk to the boy— “Hey!” Hongjoong didn’t think the call was for him until a boy he recognized well blocked his way, smiling down at him as he panted slightly “You should have come in!”

“The boy told me you were closing.” Hongjoong fiddled with his fingers as he averted his eyes from the overwhelming stare “Say you want to see me next time.” 

“Next time?” Seonghwa chuckled “Well if you happened for a coffee y’know.” He shrugged as he fell into steps beside Hongjoong and Hongjoong noticed the lack of a uniform and the casual outfit; plain white shirt, and dark jeans, still looked as glowing in a dim night.

“Is your house this way?” Hongjoong peered up at him as he noticed they were walking towards his house “Nope, I will be off at the bus stop.” 

“Why are we walking together…?” Hongjoong shied away at the question but Seonghwa didn’t take offense when he laughed alight “Don’t you want to?”

“Didn’t say that—!” it came a little bit more rushed than intended and Hongjoong was sure he was blushing hard “Then it’s fine if you send me away at my bus stop.” Seonghwa hummed happily and Hongjoong found himself struck with the tones as he stared up at him, knowing the boy was well aware he was staring dazedly.

When they reached the bus stop, Seonghwa waved at him with another charming smile before he paced to his seat. Hongjoong was left with a drumming heart, rooted to his spot right where Seonghwa left him.

For once, he looked up and there was a distant star shining down on him, so maybe that was it finally?

-

-

-

-

-

It was weird how he found himself frequenting the café house more often by the days. He even asked at some point if he was a bother in which Seonghwa shrugged off with a hair ruffle before he returned to his work, promising he would be free in thirty minutes.

The second time he went there, a new waiter who was hired a couple of days ago was attending to him. He was tall and broad yet had one of those absurd bright smiles, bright eyes, he looked like a child trapped within a grown-up body. Moreover, he had red hair.

He didn’t know why but he kept staring at the boy. Red curled hair and thick glasses with dark frames didn’t take any of his pretty features. He was animated in a way. While Seonghwa disappeared to work, Hongjoong got distracted by watching him roam around working, “Hey.”

Hongjoong stared back at the figure towering over him. He wondered how ridiculous their height difference would be if he stood up.

“Hey…” like how his greetings always were, he whispered them awkwardly and a bit hesitant. Still, the boy drew an expression he hadn’t seen in so long or hadn’t seen in forever because he couldn’t pin a word on it despite his various knowledge of vocabulary and words.

It flipped something within him he didn’t know what but it unsettled him, in both a bad and good way. He felt nervous but the boy quickly wiped the look away with one of his bright smiles. 

“I’m new here, do you frequent the place?'' Why was the stranger striking a random conversation with him so unexpectedly? Hongjoong fiddled with the journal under his hand, nails scraping the hardcover as he watched the boy’s eyes trail the movement to look at the book, there was a drop in Hongjoong’s stomach as he unconsciously tugged it closer.

“No, just lately… the boy at the reception is…” he hesitated with the title for couple seconds but followed hurriedly after— “My friend.” Again, there was a shift in the boy’s eyes. If he didn’t know better of this stuff he would have called it a bluff but the slightest judgment in people’s eyes were clear pictures to Hongjoong. He _knew_ when someone looked at him differently, yet he didn’t know what type of difference was this boy regarding him with.

“Seonghwa? He is my coworker; tell me if you need help with anything.” The redhead smiled genuinely, no hidden intent behind it, not that it showed at least. There was nothing.

Nothing but good radiance and sincerity, he didn’t know why the stranger offered him so generously.

“Want to order anything? Strawberry milkshake maybe?” the redhead beamed at him and Hongjoong nodded “Sure… yeah. I like Strawberry milkshakes.” Not much really but he didn’t want to let down the excited puppy eyes.

“It will be here in no time…” he trailed off with questioning eyes and it took a while for Hongjoong to realize he was waiting for a name “Hongjoong, Kim Hongjoong.” The redhead’s eyes softened as he took a step backward without turning, “I will be back, _Hongjoong_.”

“Thanks…” he wanted to call it stupid this time but what were these expressions. What was wrong with the guy?

He felt some awful feeling gather in his stomach and it twisted and turned as if begging him to know what was wrong because he was _supposed_ to know but he didn’t. He didn’t even know where these emotions or feelings originated but it put him on edge, wary and jaded but was quickly dissipated when the redhead tilted his head a bit to the side with another outrageous smile.

“Mingi, Song Mingi.”

Why did he sound so happy offering his name? Why did the name sound so fitting for the redhead? Why did he feel like any other name wouldn’t have sat right with him at all? Had he known the boy before? He was sure that a tall body or extreme smile should have rung a bell but it didn’t.

Not through his childhood, not his high school, he wasn’t in his awful college memories as well.

However, the name felt like it belonged to the guy. It belonged to the back of his head and it would sound absurd but it wiped the anxiety that bubbled within him a few minutes ago.

When the boy returned with his drink, he remained there. Hongjoong raised a brow at him but he laughed sheepishly, “Seonghwa would take a bit more to change, I can keep you company while you wait for him?”

Did he have a choice when the boy- Mingi, already dropped to the seat in front of him?

Hongjoong like a habit busied his hand with the cover under his hand; it just felt like home when he touched it since he had it with him throughout his life. It felt safe when he caressed it, even if subconsciously.

The boy’s eyes once again trailed to the book and Hongjoong frowned protectively, holding it closer “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna peep.” He chuckled and if not for the beautiful _real_ sound he would have scowled but his frown only lessened to a pout he didn’t know he had until the boy quietened down to stare at him with those same complex soft expressions “Do you write? Diary or stories?”

“Both?” he honestly didn’t know. He just scribbled whatever his pen wanted him to. Sometimes he wouldn’t know what he had written there, sometimes he would be too tired to bother with reading them again, another times he would hate it unreasonably and chuck it away in the back of his closet, so he didn’t know in all honesty “That sounds adventurous, have fun with it.” Mingi smiled at him but his attention averted when Seonghwa exited from afar.

Mingi stood up, grabbing Hongjoong’s attention back with his tall frame, “it was nice knowing ya’. We should be friends if you gonna keep the frequent visits here.” He didn’t know why he was so eager but Hongjoong was in the hassle to focus on Seonghwa he just nodded, missing whatever grave look the boy wore before he said a cheerful goodbye and left, tapping Seonghwa on the shoulder before he took his apron off and headed back into the changing room.

Aside from the bizarre appearance of Mingi’s character, Hongjoong didn’t pay it that much attention when Seonghwa reached for his table, smiling down at him as beautifully as ever. He would return to the boy again later but for now, the urge to hold Seonghwa’s hand was so strong he had to fight it as they once again, walked back home late at night. Together.

-

-

-

-

-

Hongjoong stayed there watching him mindlessly, wondering why he was deluding himself in the boy that much. At least it felt worth breathing in his presence so he let it be, or so he presumed. “Love is pouring off your eyes.” Hongjoong yelped at the voice above him and when he looked, Mingi was cackling at him as he leaned to wipe the already clean table. It wasn’t like he spilled anything on it but Mingi made it as an excuse to converse with him under the impression he was bored out of his mind and silent hours always drove him insane.

According to Mingi, said boy liked crowded places, also more exciting stuff that pumped his blood. It begged the question, why was he working in a café then. However, he just shrugged, ‘The manger is hot’ he had whispered scandalously as if it was a great secret but quickly cracked at Hongjoong’s ridiculous bewildered looks. He said he was joking after and he just needed temporary work because he needed some extra money.

“Wha…?” Hongjoong hated how stupid that sounded but the cheerful boy sent him knowing looks “It will be our secret. Not really since everyone here can see it.” Hongjoong felt the heat creep up his cheeks dangerously. To make it worse he even winked! Hongjoong buried his face in his hands, embarrassment eating him “You like him this much?” There was a precious undertone in his voice. He heard Seonghwa questioning what was wrong with him. Mingi threw a vague reply as he bounced away from him before he got an answer he probably wouldn’t have uttered.

Hongjoong peered up, Seonghwa was frowning down at him; it tugged at his chest “I’m fine.”

“Your cheeks are red,” Seonghwa took his face in his gentle grips “and warm.” Hongjoong fought the urge to lean into the touch, not helping the fact he was deprived of humans’ touches. He hadn’t come in physical contact with anyone in so long.

He didn’t realize he had closed his eyes and had sighed softly, “You look sick.” Seonghwa fretted over him and Hongjoong assured him he wasn’t as he stood up, felt lightheaded from the touch he stumbled. How was he about to convince the boy he was fine now?

Seonghwa stressed he would walk him home since it was late at night and he was worried out of his head “How will you get back home then?” 

“I can manage after I tuck you into bed.” Seonghwa said and there was a pout on Hongjoong’s face “I’m not a kid.” 

“You are a babie what do you mean?” It was safe to say they spent the whole walk back arguing about it, Seonghwa fighting a laugh and Hongjoong taking it much more seriously than intended, “We are the same age, why it doesn’t make sense to you?” 

“Well, you look like it and c’mon, we have been standing at your front door for five minutes now.” Hongjoong humphed. It earned him a pinch on the cheek and the fond look in Seonghwa’s eyes rendered him speechless. He was lost in a daze until Seonghwa whispered: “You should stop staring at me like that.” It was quiet as a gentle breeze.

Seonghwa took a couple of steps backward, Hongjoong almost reached a hand out for him but stopped halfway midair. He didn’t want him to walk away. “You look like a star.”

“Hmm? How so?” Seonghwa tilted his head in question, intrigued by the sudden remark. “I rarely see stars and you look like one.” It still didn’t make sense, not to Hongjoong’s ears even but there was a smile dancing on Seonghwa’s lips “I don’t do well with poetics but that sounded nice.”

“N-No— your eyes! They shine! There is… t-twinkles in them…” Hongjoong blushed as he fiddled with his fingers nervously, his rambling drawing him nervous but Seonghwa’s fond smile never ceased. 

“You should get in, it’s so late already.” 

-

-

-

Hongjoong found himself carrying his journal in the early hours of the night to the same café house. He took a seat at the back. He couldn’t spot Seonghwa so he opted for scribbling whatever on the papers of his journal, of course with the occasional interruption of Mingi. Hongjoong would want to tell him off and to go and focus on his work instead but the boy stuck like glue and him… he didn’t know why, but his presence was welcomed to him. It was weird; within such a short while, he grew that much on him he would call him a warm person. He liked his smile and the few sparkles in his eyes.

His company wasn’t bad, not at all. A bit overfriendly.

“Nice pen.” Mingi slurped his drink as he slumped in the chair in front of him. He stopped telling him off the last time he invited himself to sit. Hongjoong mumbled a small “Thanks.” Massaging his aching wrists below the table. It sometimes acted up when he wrote for long whiles. Today he had them bandaged under the long sleeves of his hoodie.

“I used to have one too, it’s old.” Mingi eyed the pen curiously, “I think they used to engrave small cute animals at the end of them.” Hongjoong eyed the pen in his hand. It was handmade, it was wooden and indeed, it had small kitties engraved around the end of it. He liked the pen the most amongst the many others he had “Yeah, it’s old. I don’t even remember when I got it.” Hongjoong furrowed his eyebrows “I use it all the time...” Mingi beamed wide at him “Doesn’t it get dry?”

“It’s a fill-in, a bit convenient since I write a lot.” Mingi hummed as he slurped on his drink “Well, don’t lose it.” Hongjoong gripped the pen tightly, an ugly feeling in his chest at the thought of losing it “I won’t.” He retorted defensively. Mingi smiled knowingly as he stood up “Well, great. Unfortunately, I gotta go back to work, have fun writing.” He watched Mingi’s broad back walking away and a nagging pulse at the back of his head made present again. He slapped his face lightly to knock it off before shrugging the whole conversation.

He was so lost in his writings and thoughts he shrieked when he felt a tap on his shoulder “Hey.” a bit brighter than usual smile painted Hongjoong’s soft lips, Seonghwa returning the gesture just the same “Hey.”

“Again with your book? I’m getting curious about it.” Seonghwa teased him and he immediately held the book to his chest protectively, fumbling few words that made Seonghwa chuckle “It’s fine, kidding.” a knot let loose in his chest, “Asked Mingi to make you an extra big mug today, since you are staying for a while. He insisted on a strawberry milkshake though, you like it this much?”

Hongjoong blushed at the tendency the boy above him showed, he nodded slowly. It was nice to be looked after like that, even if by small things, it was the details that counted the most.

“Thanks,” Seonghwa left him with another one of his smiles and Hongjoong remained back in his seat. It was a busy day it seemed because he didn’t get anything aside from small talks in between with him and Mingi. It wasn’t like Hongjoong minded; no one waited for him at home and he had nothing particularly to do. About time, he went for another job hunt.

Maybe when he would gain more lights from Seonghwa.

At the thoughts, his eyes drifted to the said boy making a friendly conversation with some random customer. Seonghwa seemed acquainted with him with how touchy their talk was. Hongjoong refused to acknowledge the tug in his chest as he averted his attention back to the journal, sketching and writing some other ideas occurring to him.

Maybe one day he would be able to make use of them for a book, maybe he could make a living out of it, who would know?

Time passed in a blink, Hongjoong was too dwelling on his pen to notice until they announced they were closing soon.

He scrambled to gather himself to leave when Seonghwa asked him to wait outside and he did as he leaned against the wall outside, chill air almost seeping through his hoodie, autumn was nearing, letting winter in. He didn’t know if he liked that or not.

Winter was awful for lonely people, but it wouldn't be if there were a company, right?

When Seonghwa exited in his casual clothes, Hongjoong flashed him one of his timid smiles again, “It’s cold for your thin shirt,” he reached out unconsciously to tug at Seonghwa’s shirt “Huh? Eh, it’s fine. My apartment not that far, are you cold?” 

Hongjoong shrugged and ushered for the boy to continue talking along their walk. They easily fell back into matching steps, “I’m wearing a hoodie; you supposed to be the cold one.” Hongjoong pouted, kicking a nonexistent rubble in his steps, “Actually, I’m cold.” Seonghwa looked down at him and the pout turned to a frown in question.

“We gotta hurry then,” Hongjoong said which earned him an out of context chuckle “Better, just…” Seonghwa trailed off and Hongjoong averted his eyes to the hand offered to him but then it returned to Seonghwa’s warm eyes. Hongjoong looked baffled at the proposition and he wanted to curse himself for acting in such a dumb way. Seonghwa almost retreated his hand but Hongjoong immediately reached for it.

It was strange. He couldn’t look at it much when he stuck their hands in his pocket, feeling how his hand was too small to wrap around Seonghwa’s. How Seonghwa adjusted their hold to wrap Hongjoong’s hand in his. 

He hoped he wasn’t sweating “Your hand is freezing…”

“And you are so warm.” 

Was he? 

-

-

-

_‘Something is wrong with you’_

-

-

-

“Let’s move into my room.” Hongjoong said quietly as he moved toward the stairs, stopped when Seonghwa didn’t follow “I’m just showing you my collection, the sketches, and journals I’ve written.”

“Are you sure you want me in your… personal space? I mean… it might be too soon?” Seonghwa was hesitant as he frowned but Hongjoong assured him with a warm smile “I want you… there, why wouldn’t I?” Hongjoong brought him home since he deemed Seonghwa of worthy trust. He thought he could show him where he lived and maybe they could go through his written works. He wondered if Seonghwa would like them too, “I wouldn’t have brought you home if I wasn’t comfortable enough around you.”

“But—” Seonghwa was about to protest but Hongjoong interrupted him midway “You know everything about me, I told you about myself, my family, my happiness and fears, you think I wouldn’t trust myself around you?” Hongjoong walked closer to him, narrowing the space between them to a couple of steps and the height difference was so apparent when he looked up at him that close, Seonghwa seemed to be lost in his thoughts.

“Sorry if it’s uncomfortable for you…” Hongjoong tilted his head down; embarrassed that he might have pushed it too far. He bit at his lip, fingers lost in their habit of fiddling nervously, Seonghwa might have noticed when he gently took them into his own bigger ones, he didn’t realize he was sweating, his hands were trembling violently “Calm down, hey…”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to… I don’t know…” Hongjoong couldn’t gather his thoughts and his pronunciation worsened as his words started to come out breathy. He couldn’t meet his eyes and Seonghwa’s holds tightened “I just wanted you closer, I wanted you more into my life. I don’t want to lose you b-because I acted s-stup-pid or if I—I made y-you uncomfortable—” when was the last time he panicked like this or was this… _scare_ , he was feeling scared. 

Why so suddenly— _something is wrong with you._

Seonghwa wouldn’t leave, he didn’t want to lose him so soon.

He was slowly gaining lights back; he didn’t want to get stripped of it so fast. Before he could get a simple taste of it.

Hongjoong was going down in his head. He didn’t notice he was heaving up; eyes dilated and body feeling hot in his skin, it was when hands cradled his face gently, he heard the mild yet worrying rambles “Breathe, breathe for me Hongjoong,” the alarm in his tone spiked his panic and he tried to pull away but Seonghwa wouldn’t let him. He said a bit firmer “Look at me, meet my eyes,” he wasn’t about to but when Seonghwa said his name resolutely _‘Hongjoong’_ he snapped his head up. He hadn’t realized his eyes were wet until he blinked and two trails of tears slipped his cheeks.

Seonghwa’s eyes were fixated and steady, almost held a sense of security in them “Good, now breathe with me, okay Joong?” Maybe he would have caught the nickname if he wasn’t that winded or focused on gaining control back. Seonghwa led him through it though, took his hand in his own and told him to inhale when he squeezed his hand tight and to exhale when he let loose.

After multiple tries where he thought it was almost impossible to quell his raging insides, it slowly started to sedate him. the tension seeping out of him and as if his feet gave up on his body, he fell forward in Seonghwa’s arms, more like on his chest but Seonghwa held him up on instincts “Sorry…” he whimpered against the fabric of Seonghwa’s shirt and he heard the whispers “It’s fine, let me settle you down.” It was dark in the house when Seonghwa led him to the rather worn-out sofa and sat him down, he grabbed a discarded blanket close and wrapped Hongjoong tightly.

Hongjoong knew he shouldn’t push it further, not when he felt like vomiting or when the headache made his vision blur for seconds. But he really couldn’t help it when he fell forward and landed on Seonghwa’s shoulder, “I’m sorry, so sorry…” there were still small trembles in his body, he couldn’t control it when not even the blanket around his body kept him warm “C’mere…” Seonghwa tugged him closer and buried him in his chest sideways, he smelled… safe.

“Is this normal for you?” Seonghwa whispered hesitantly as if he didn’t want to trigger him anymore but Hongjoong could barely hear his voice in his droning ears “a while… a long while…” he didn’t have the energy to explain or tell him that he didn’t have anyone close in so long, haven’t interacted with people to freak out about anything. Maybe it was better if Seonghwa didn’t know about it at all.

“You scared me there…” there was a small shaking in Seonghwa’s voice and Hongjoong despite his body protesting, he crawled closer to wrap them both in the blanket and press their bodies more; he wanted so desperately to chase the scare he caused away.

_Something is wrong with you._

“I’m good… you are here… I’m… g-good…”

He strained to keep his eyes open, afraid that if he blinked Seonghwa would be gone. His vision blurred for a second and his heart almost seized up when he couldn’t see him, feel him. 

He might have passed out from the exhaustion or the panic he felt after such a long time. The next morning, he woke up on the same sofa, laying down and wrapped by a blanket. 

A small note at the table reading that Seonghwa was gone for his morning shift and didn’t want to stir him up. When he looked at the clock, it was close to the afternoon. 

He groaned at the massive throbbing in his head but smiled at the neat scribble, if he wasn’t so proud of himself he would say Seonghwa’s writing could match his own. 

Maybe they fit in more ways than he thought they would.

He wanted to go and apologize to him. 

-

-

-

-

He didn’t know why of all these days, Seonghwa wasn’t in his uniform. He took him to his usual corner and sat down in front of him.

It was unsettling because he usually had to wait for him to finish and they would go out. This time it didn’t seem like it. Despite the easy smile on Seonghwa’s face, Hongjoong knew there was something wrong, call it a gut feeling or anything, but he was fidgeting in apprehension. Even when Seonghwa reassured him, it didn’t lessen the growing tension, it was still there underneath his skin, itching.

The conversation was light, perhaps as they talked, he wondered if his anxiety was for nothing and he was overthinking whatever it was there.

Seonghwa smiled at him “Are you okay?” he tilted his head in his usual concerned gesture. Despite the smile, he sounded a bit aware of him working himself up “Don’t know…?”

“Tell me,” Seonghwa reached his hand across the small table but he immediately flinched and retreated it. It took him a second to realize what he had done. He shot frantic dilated eyes toward Seonghwa. He barely noticed the surprise before it faded to what he would call a wary smile “Seonghwa—”

“It’s fine, it’s okay Hongjoong.'' The use of his name made him flinch once more “Hey…” he tried to reach a weak hand, it trembled slightly as he held it up, it seemed like Seonghwa took mercy on him when he met it halfway, slowly, they touched and Seonghwa held his small hand in his firm yet gentle grip.

Hongjoong bit his lip, he knew he needed to word out his paranoia, somehow get it out, “It’s just…”

“You don’t need to tell me.” He rubbed a tiny circle on the back of his hand, “I want to… I just can’t …” he swallowed his words, terribly trying to get them out “I…”

_Something is wrong with you._

“Do you need to get out?” His head snapped up at Seonghwa already standing up and tucking his phone and wallet in the back pocket of his dark jeans. “I will grab my jacket and return.”

What Hongjoong least expected was for Seonghwa to take him out. It was late already and Mingi shot him a look he couldn’t decipher as they exited together. “You’ve been ignited for a while now, how about we lessen that a bit, yeah?” The winds played with Seonghwa’s silky hair, he looked ethereal even in a crowded street. Every light dreamily reflected on him and most of the time, Hongjoong found himself lost in the man taking his hand and leading the way. He knew if it wasn’t for him, his small body would get easily lost in the crowd. 

“I think I know a place you would like.” Seonghwa looked down at him enthusiastically, Hongjoong just followed him as they crossed roads and delivered deeper into none crowded areas and then into a district. Behind the district was a wide greenfield. 

Hongjoong stood struck as he stared in astonishment. Because it wasn’t about the green land, it was the sky above it. His eyes were wet and he sniffled as a wretched squeeze seized his chest and he inhaled a sob. 

A soft chuckle took his attention and he tore his eyes from the stars above to look at Seonghwa who was already watching his reaction to the surprise intently. A fond expression on his face as he reached out and wiped a stray tear with his sleeve “You told me you don’t get to see stars often.” It was inevitable when Hongjoong broke down in irrepressible weeps. It was too much; all of this was so pretty. He wasn’t used to pretty things getting handed to him pricelessly. He was about to combust from the overwhelming pressure in his chest. 

“This is real…? This is like, really _real?_ ” He sounded stupid he knew but he had to make sure all of this wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t all in his head. 

“It is, Hongjoong.” Seonghwa wiped his flushed wet cheeks with both sleeves, chuckling at how he broke down over a simple starry night. Though he didn’t know; wouldn’t know no matter what or how he explained it; how much it meant for Hongjoong. It meant so much, way beyond any words could do any justice to the emotions cruising him; how would he understand it felt like breathing after years of suffocation? When he never knew what suffocation even felt like, to begin with. 

In his heady state, he threw his arms around Seonghwa’s neck and dragged him for a hug, “Thank you. Thank you so much.” Hongjoong sniffled against his neck, squeezing him tighter “It means a lot to me.” The light hands rubbing his waist urged him to press closer. “Are you happy?”

“ _I’m happy._ ” So happy it almost felt unreal. This was like a dream. This was like something he would write in his journals because they could never happen to him. Reality never treated him this justifiably. 

But Seonghwa was in front of him and he could see him through the blur of his tears. 

His lashes were heavy with them but still, he stared into Seonghwa’s deep eyes up close. Their breaths joined; it was like a breeze fanning his skin. They remained in each other’s arms, never broke the trance between their eyes even when Seonghwa joked about how he should look at the stars instead ‘ _not when I’m looking at the prettiest of them.’_ He breathed against his mouth and his eyes fluttered half-closed. He leaned in, tiptoed; feeling his heart drum in his ears and his head pounding a bit dully but he paid it no mind. 

He let their lips touch. Nothing deep, nothing too much. Just an innocent kiss that Hongjoong didn’t know why he was crying because of. 

There was just that painful feeling in his chest he didn’t understand that made his lips tremble in silent cries. That all of these pretty things were dreams and he was going to wake from these delusions somehow—soon. He wasn’t used to this. His life fucked him up in more ways than he could handle. 

Now even the smallest, prettiest things that he knew he deserved after everything he went through; even those things made him cry and feel a bitter pain in his chest. 

How long will this last this time? 

-

-

-

-

Hongjoong didn’t think life would let him see the man again, the one standing in front of him was definitely him in flesh, chatting in such a friendly way with _Seonghwa_. 

He stood in the café entrance, still comprehending his _ex_ was there having a _fun_ conversation with _his_ Seonghwa—

His...?

Hongjoong felt his blood boil, in both anger and fear. He didn’t know what he was afraid of though, it was just a chilling prickle under his skin, his chest crumbling in an overpowering way that urged him to _run_.

He wasn’t aware he had stood there in his spot for whatever minutes until a customer asked him to step aside from the entrance. He mumbled a fussing apology with bows and the man left him with an irritating side-glance.

When Hongjoong looked back, Seonghwa was meeting his eyes across the space worriedly, he didn’t realize his _ex-boyfriend_ had turned around as well and was looking at him wide-eyed and shocked. 

_‘You are sick’_

Hongjoong felt a drop of sweat roll down his temple, he unconsciously took a step back and he might have looked spooked because Seonghwa was quick to come close and take a hold of him. When Hongjoong looked up, he felt like choking on thin air; a massive throbbing beat in his head made him want to vomit whatever he had on lunch. His ears couldn’t pick what Seonghwa’s mouth was saying, he only saw the movement, felt his ears pulsating louder and louder he wanted to scream for the deafening noise to stop.

_‘It’s all in your head.’_

He didn’t know what was happening, he was about to pass out; fell forward and his forehead collided with Seonghwa’s chest. He was quickly wrapped within tight arms. He didn’t know how many minutes passed before the buzz seethed down into a dull beep at the back of his head; he could make out Seonghwa’s worried voice now, despite being close it felt so far away as if he was hearing underwater.

_‘It’s all in your head.’_

“Hongjoong… Do you hear me? Answer me—” Hongjoong slowly tilted his head sideways, still pressed to Seonghwa’s chest when he squinted his eyes at his ex, “H-How… do you know h-him…?” Hongjoong whispered hoarsely, throat closing up in a way it made him want to throw up on the spot.

_‘It’s all in your head.’_

He didn’t notice the confusion or Seonghwa taking glances between him and where his eyes were looking, his ex— he clutched Seonghwa’s shirt in small trembling fists “San? What about San? He is my friend.” Hongjoong felt the ground tilt underneath his feet and in a fucked up way, he thought he was falling. The world spun and he bit hard on his lip unconsciously; Seonghwa had to tug it free with his thumb so he wouldn’t draw blood “—God’s sake Hongjoong what is happening with you?”

_‘It’s all in your head.’_

“I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t want to know, I—” Hongjoong was hyperventilating, the blank stares of his ex, _San_ , made him want to crawl around himself and disappear, he wanted to vanish right there on the spot. 

_‘It’s all in your head.’_

He wanted to scream at the voices taunting him; didn’t know where it was coming from but it ignited him, dark spots danced in his blurry vision _‘It’s all in your head.’_ It kept repeating and repeating and repeating—

_‘It’s all in your head.’_

Seonghwa brought him to the back staff room, somehow seating him on a chair. He crouched down in front of him when he refused to let off the shirt from his steel grip. He didn’t know if San followed or not, his vision blurred but it wasn’t tears, clouds and dark spots were fogging his eyes he could barely see the shimmers of Seonghwa’s orbs, he felt isolated and _scared._

Why was he _scared?_ He wanted to know but his mind screamed at him whenever he tried to tread across the line.

_‘It’s all in your head.’_

His other hand gripped at his hair painfully, gasping agonizingly aloud because everything was hurting, he was cracking from his skull down to his ribs shredding his lungs.

“Calm… fuck Hongjoong p-please look at me…” Seonghwa looked terrified in his vision, looked frightened and panicked. It made it worse and worse when he could feel both their hands tremble in a hold.

_‘It’s all in your head.’_

Seonghwa tried, really tried and Hongjoong too, but there was something in the back of his brain alarming, he himself didn’t know what that was but it felt like a warning; as if San triggered something within him. He felt the dark spots slowly take over the fog in his vision and he was crying because he didn’t want to be swallowed there alone, didn’t want to drop and get lost in his head.

His head was frightening.

He wanted Seonghwa with him; he wanted a hand to keep him together but it was too much, excessively much for his worn body and the dark slowly sunk him, he fell forward, at least Seonghwa was there to keep him from cracking his head open on the floor.

_Wake up._

-

‘How long ha—had it bee—’ Hongjoong didn’t know where he was. Despite the darkness that absorbed him, he was in a white void, everything bright and blinding he couldn’t bring his eyes to open. ‘— keeps frequenti—th—café… we d— talk… ’ Hongjoong knew he could recognize those voices but in his head, everything didn’t make any sense—

‘—uck, ar –ou s—serious?’ Hongjoong held his hands to his eyes, tried to block the annoying lights. For once he preferred darkness to engulf him— the voices kept talking in the back of his head, where were his ears picking up those murmurs? ‘Yes, he is f—fuc—c u—up, alw— be—en fuc— up— … —uck —u got yours— int—’ he hated how parts of the talk were statically warped. He couldn’t catch complete phrases just clipped parts— everything felt deformed in his head.

‘—u won’t b—beli— m—… journ… the jou— everyt— rnal—’ the voices malformed more and more in a sickening way and he felt dizzy, curled sideways on the white endless bottom, was this a surface? Where was he? Nothing made sense in any way—

‘Later, when you believe me, I will tell you everything. _Run_.’

_Wake up._

Hongjoong’s eyes shot open; terror and dread filling him up in a manic way and the pounding returned worse, merciless and much appalling. No no no no— he felt threatened, cornered, freaking mortified he didn’t know how to get out of his head, maybe he was inside his head for real— He stood on his numb feet, almost fell when everything tilted; his eyes shook as he took frenzied glances around, an exit, a way out— his chest hurt. He clutched to his heart, claw marks printing his flesh through his shirt; he wanted a space there to breathe, to let his heart free, it was shredding, squeezing horrendously underneath the pressure, what was wrong with him—

Everything.

_Wake up!_

-

Hongjoong shot up with a loud torn scream, felt like spitting blood with how his throat cut sharp. He coughed painfully but was immediately handed a cup of water, he blinked in confusion before looking sideways, Seonghwa was there beside him crouching down, a pale face painted with worry. He felt the guilt eat him up. “Shush… just drink this…” he pressed the cup to his lips while his other hand rubbed his back gently; dammit he was shaking forcefully it was like he couldn’t control his body, some water spilled from the cup when he tried to get some down his throat, it felt a bit nice against his scalding sour insides.

“I—I’m—” he croaked out but was instead held in two arms, when had he started crying? His cheeks were wet and his lashes felt heavy with tears and Seonghwa’s chest was so warm… so warm… it made him tear more he was heaving up choked breaths and loud sobs. Seonghwa’s voice in his ear both comforting yet aching, he was ripping apart as he clutched to him “I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry I keep being—” he choked “I keep being t-too much— keep being a burden— s-sorry!”

“Shush… you aren’t, you will be okay…” Seonghwa buried his face in the crook of his neck. Seonghwa was breathing as heavily and he felt like breaking into smaller pieces. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry I’m fucked up… I d-don’t want to be fucked up…” the heaving slowed down to labored hiccups and whispered grief-stricken words, silent tears kept falling “Shush… just let it out… I’ve got you…” Seonghwa rubbed his back soothingly. Hongjoong felt his body sag against him and he nuzzled more into the body holding him. He smelled different, felt warmer, was bigger or he just was feeling smaller than usual? He could see red from the corner of his blurred vision but he could barely keep his eyes open against the merciless migraine so he closed them. 

“I’m here… I’ve always been here for you… always will…”

“S-Seonghwa—” the arms around him stiffened “Yeah…” he murmured back quietly, a hint of agony in his voice.

It wasn’t a meant kiss, but he had his face— his lips pressed to his neck where he tucked himself.

“… why can’t I just be… normal.”

****

-

-

-

_‘Something is wrong with you’_

-

-

-

“What are you doing out here?” Hongjoong’s eyes burned as he looked up at the towering form, a small shaky inhale escaped him and his lower lip wobbled. Mingi immediately crouched by his small curled body. He took off his jacket and wrapped it around him. It swallowed his tiny body and it felt too warm for the freezing weather. The night was bitter yet he couldn’t bring himself to enter the café— to see Seonghwa yet so soon. Thus, he sat outside by the sidewalk, knees to his chest with his head buried in them. 

“I—I can’t go i-in…” another wave of tears washed over him. Mingi’s big palms took his face, covered most of it as he rubbed the tears with his thumbs. He looked worried. He would say it was normal; but the worry in his eyes was different, greater than he should feel for him “What is wrong, talk to me.” the hands never left his cheeks, never let him bow his head down; their heat seeped into his cold-numb face “ _I’m scared._ ” He didn’t know why he was now confessing the ugly feeling that’s been hunting him. Why so suddenly and why to Mingi?

“Why scared?” Mingi tried meeting his eyes desperately as he tugged on his face and he stuttered a rickety breath “I’m not used to this… I’m scared I’m going to lose everything.” Hongjoong hiccupped and curled more under the jacket “Good things don’t happen to me, Mingi. _They don’t._ ” Mingi’s eyes widened considerably. He could swear his hands trembled but they steadfast instantly and then he was pulled in. Mingi pressed their foreheads together and smiled, the smile was too broken to be called a smile.

Mingi closed his eyes as he inhaled erratically “It can Hongjoong… it can happen…” Hongjoong was momentarily distracted by the waver in Mingi’s smile by way he forced it on “Don’t say it won’t, please…” he opened his eyes and looked so close, begging him to let the words sink in his head agitatedly.

The new fresh wave of tears was bittersweet because the words were both comforting yet too beautiful for his battered heart “But they keep telling me…” Hongjoong whispered as if someone was going to hear him. Mingi eyed him at a loss “Who?”

“Can I trust you with a secret?” Hongjoong cold hand laid on top of one of Mingi’s “You won’t think I’m crazy… would you?”

“No. No Hongjoong I would never.” Mingi breathed the words exasperatedly as if he was suggesting the most ridiculous thing. He rubbed a comforting circle on his cheek and Hongjoong drew in, “There is a voice in my head…” Hongjoong took a glance around before he met Mingi’s eyes “There are voices that keep telling me stuff…” Hongjoong treaded carefully; “They tell me there is something wrong with me…” Mingi’s grips tightened and his eyes dithered “They say all of these are in my head and I should wake up…”

Hongjoong’s voice could barely be heard “And I think _they are right._ ”

It took a moment for Mingi’s wide eyes to focus back “N-No, No Hongjoong, whoever implanted this in your head, they are wrong, so wrong.” Mingi pulled his face away to glare at him “Don’t believe these voices; don’t let them take your happiness and comfort from you.” Mingi’s hands trailed down to tug at the collar of the jacket harshly “You deserve more than what these voices keep on telling you. You _understand_ me?”

However, Mingi didn’t know these voices didn’t belong to people. No one had told him these. Mingi didn’t know of the voices who follow him everywhere, existing through thin air. Whenever he subtracted toward happiness, they would reappear just to remind him; he was sick and there’s something wrong with him. That he shouldn’t forget what was within him.

Those voices in dark corners and seated at the back of his mind, whispering ugly premises of whom he shouldn’t forget.

Hongjoong didn’t tell him. He didn’t enter the café that night and refused to meet Seonghwa. He needed a moment, a time to get his bearings together.

Mingi also didn’t leave his side, the warm body kept him grounded in a way he didn’t understand. His body felt the most serene when in his presence. He belonged there, in away. He felt like he was a part of him, a part that had always been familiar to him. He felt safe, immobilized but in a good sense like the one, he could surrender for a while without the fear he had let his guard down.

A guard against what though? He didn’t know. Still, the fear in him and the voices begged him to keep his eyes open. For he didn’t know when all of this would vanish at any blink of his eyes.

“Do you want to go to eat ice cream?” Hongjoong looked at him in confusion “But it’s cold?” he pouted and Mingi pulled him to his feet despite the lack of enthusiasm “And what about it? I know a place with really delicious strawberry ice cream.” He didn’t know what was about Mingi and Strawberries, but the open genuine smile on Mingi’s face once again told him to shut up and not mention he didn’t like strawberries that much. He would drink the strawberry milkshakes just for the bright smile on the boy’s face.

“Okay then, but I’m keeping the jacket until we reach home.” Mingi’s face lit up like rainbows and despite his prior mood, he felt lighter. The ice cream didn’t taste bad, not when Mingi was projecting his happiness on him. He decided to ignore the voices and just enjoy the exciting tales the redhead told him about himself and some old friend he used to have. The stories were fun and Hongjoong found it hard not to feel sleepy under the rough voice, feeling cozy in the warm jacket engulfing him “Sleepy?” his head was resting on Mingi’s shoulder as they peered upon the clouded sky, or maybe it was just Mingi because his eyes kept drooping.

“A little.” Hongjoong rubbed his frozen nose on Mingi’s shoulder, the letter chuckled lightly, “Let me get you home.” Mingi helped him on his feet, manhandling his sluggish body. It wasn’t like it was hard with how big Mingi was in contrast to his tiny form. When he shivered, Mingi wrapped an arm around him and it was so safe to exist for once. There was a thing he couldn’t tell about the boy but he loved the welfare of him so much.

Hongjoong handed him the jacket before he got in. Mingi didn’t move from his spot until he closed the door. Hongjoong saw from the little glass patch how it took him a moment before he turned around and left, a weird agony on his face that didn’t show before throughout their time together.

Hongjoong sighed as he dragged himself to his room. He was walking by the living room when he noticed something. He halted in his steps by the stairs. He slowly turned around, the house dim-lit and silent. The journal was there at the table in the living room. He had forgotten to take it with him. How was that possible? He never left it behind.

Hongjoong soundless steps moved around the sofa and he observed the page opened, the words were dancing on the paper. He blinked and there wasn’t anything just a blank page. He cautiously took it. When he skimmed the pages the words danced again, moved through the lines and then diffracted into scattered letters before they returned to words then melted into batches of ink. A migraine resurfaced Hongjoong’s head and he shut the book. He groaned as he staggered on his feet, caught himself on the sofa, he barely cracked an eye open but closed it instantly when the pounding built up.

He needed to crash down, maybe the stress was finally catching up to him. He clutched the journal in his hand as he used the other to brace himself on the railing when he ascended the stairs. 

These didn’t happen since a couple of months before his grandmother’s death.

-

-

_I’m always here, look at me._

-

-

Hongjoong, as usual, sat at his corner. It’s been days since he had come here. Seonghwa even wondered if anything had happened, but nothing did.

There was just a different feeling, a weird intuition within him, warning him something was wrong. Since that day he last broke down, it kept him on his toes, paranoid and skeptical about everything surrounding him. It was a creeping chill at random times, especially when he was alone in his room locked up. He felt it, there at the back of his head, heavy and dim, it was like— he didn’t even _know_. 

At some points it made him feel nauseous or even dizzy, sometimes his vision would act up and he would see silhouettes and shades from the corners of his eyes, or he would hear a small kid voice talking to him and it would feel like daydreaming. 

Sometimes it felt like he wasn’t exactly there. He would see stuff; sometimes a small crying boy but the vision would warp like a vivid image when he tried to reach him, and then the bizarre dreams that felt more real than they should for he felt sensations he shouldn’t feel, like the surface he was standing on in the dream or the texture of the mattress he sat on or even touches he didn’t know who they belonged to.

They felt factual, but he knew they weren’t. When he woke up they almost wiped out but when he let sleep take him under they played out and he felt insane. He didn’t understand; what were these _fractions?_

They triggered him, probably why he didn’t come for more than a week because he was going mad. He was goddamn scared out of his wits. One wouldn’t see people move in his room and not freak the fuck out.

Threatened, he didn’t know why he felt threatened or by whom; he just felt impeded, something lurking around him or maybe inside him. He wasn’t safe, nothing felt safe; he had to run, to seek a presence because if he spent another day on his own with those vague murky forms loitering around he might snap and act on it.

It started to crawl under his skin and he was _terrified_ , but why?

Who was inside him, what was hidden, _what was wrong with him?_

Hongjoong groaned as he laid his forehead down, resting it on the journal in his hands, what should he write next? It wasn’t finished yet, the story was still halfway unfinished but his wrists were hurting him and he could barely move them without grating in pain.

Nevertheless, he needed to write. Something nice, something to distract him from the infuriating inkling inside him. Thus, he scribbled whatever his pen wanted him to write. As always when his pen met the thin papers, he blanked out. As if sucked within a space where his hand disconnected from his body and mind. He didn’t know what it was about writing that felt therapeutic, _it just felt right._ It also felt like second nature to him, almost like breathing, he had done it all his life.

Like fading from his surroundings for whatever time it was. As if he lived within his lines, he didn’t notice the figure in front of him, “Mingi…”

“Finally,” the baby smile stretched on the redhead’s face, bright and the ever enchanting, “Thought you would keep it up for a little longer.”

“I’m sorry…” Hongjoong mumbled as he retreated the pen and closed the journal. His hand laid on top of it in safety, known fully well Mingi wouldn’t prod on it but still, he assured himself he had it secured underneath his hand.

“You shouldn’t be, I just finished my shift and thought I would join you. It will be a while for Seonghwa to finish and change.” Mingi rested back, he just noticed the orange juice in his hand; as always, baby Mingi.

“How is everything?” he sipped on his drink, “Still the same,” Hongjoong simply replied, his finger running mindlessly along the edge of the table, Mingi frowned “Sure you don’t need anything from me? I can help?”

Hongjoong sighed tiredly “Me… Mingi… it’s _me_ … I don’t think anyone can help.” Hongjoong buried his face in his hands, rubbing a bit roughly. “Then do you want a hug?” Mingi was just that innocent, Hongjoong met his eyes and he felt them so… attentive, as always, clear and pure like a diamond, Mingi was that precious, did he deserve such person?

Why was he questioning that now?

Hongjoong took a while, peaking at Mingi through the cracks of his fingers. Mingi suddenly stood up, so tall he towered over him; he abandoned the drink as he held his arms wide open. It took a few seconds to realize the gesture was welcoming him for a hug.

Hongjoong’s body moved on its own before he could realize he had thrown himself at Mingi, holding him tight, so tight in contrast to the gentle warm arms circling his small body slowly. He soon was enveloped in Mingi’s scent and warmth around him. He nuzzled his face in his chest, the height difference was ridiculous but Hongjoong loved how sheltered he felt as if the jeopardy within his head feared to come alive within Mingi’s radius. As if Mingi was a torch of fire that no shadow dared to appear in its presence.

Hongjoong knew he was acting differently than usual as if he had a second mind who moved his body on its own; still, he ignored his bizarreness and hummed at the big hands rubbing his back. Different to Seonghwa’s thin yet long delicate fingers, Mingi’s felt thick and rough yet so gently pressed to his spine, soothing it up and down.

It felt oddly familiar. The protection his body felt as if on muscle memory, his mind had no clue about. As if he had spent his whole life protected by those arms but he hadn’t.

It was confusing in a way, relaxing in another. In all means, it made him feel light and secure and that’s what he most needed in his life.

A shelter.

The moment was broken when a voice interrupted them; “Am I ruining a moment?” the voice chuckled freely. Hongjoong didn’t let Mingi off but still pulled his head sideways slightly to see whom the voice belonged to.

The man was… a prince mayhap? He had blonde silky hair, delicate features, and a birthmark on the side of his left eye that took nothing of his beauty, possibly added to it even more. He reeked elegance and prestige but still sounded humble and respectful “Yeosang.” Mingi broke into his widespread smile as he slowly let go of Hongjoong, still, he kept an arm around the narrow shoulder to not stray afar.

“Hi, Mingi.” The young man greeted him “This is my friend, Yeosang. Yeosang, this is the friend I’ve been grilling you with.” Mingi introduced excitedly “Look ain’t he as tiny as I described?” Hongjoong tweaked his arm and Mingi yelped in pain, “N-Nice to meet you…” Hongjoong slowly retreated to his seat. “Mingi talks about you a lot, I’m glad I’m finally seeing you.” Yeosang afforded him one precious smile that warmed his cheeks despite his will.

“Aww, he likes you.” Mingi cooed and Hongjoong wanted to kick him, he was full-on blushing now “Stop teasing the boy.” Yeosang hit Mingi’s head before winking at Hongjoong as if he had done him a favor.

“Can I sit here?” Yeosang asked modestly, Hongjoong wanted to avoid the awkwardness but couldn’t refuse the handsome man anything even if he wanted. “Thanks.”

After settling in front of him, Yeosang shooed Mingi away for his work “Now we got rid of him, he won’t tease you again.” Yeosang leaned his chin on his intertwined hands.

“But you are here for him…” Hongjoong mumbled clumsily “I’m fifteen minutes early, he still has work to get done with.” And Hongjoong just then noticed the time and realized that correct, Seonghwa still had fifteen minutes before getting done. “I rarely see Mingi since he started working here, I just had to come and visit him at work.” Yeosang pouted and went on a full rant of how Mingi never treated him the same since he found him, of course, he was joking but still, the pout was endearing.

Yeosang was adorable, to say the least. Despite the high-class exposure, he was a dork. He cracked jokes, roasted Mingi, and talked to him like some old friend. Not that he could blame him knowing Mingi had told him everything about them to the point they might as well consider themselves old buddies or something.

“Mingi adores you a lot…” Yeosang had confessed at some point. His eyes held all the genuineness in them. He smiled delicately. “Don’t misunderstand, but he sees you as one of his closest friends. He loves you.” Hongjoong eyes trailed to the boy rushing between the orders along with Seonghwa who occasionally got out of the backroom.

“If you need anything, you can always count on him. I assure you.”

-

-

-

Those days were the worst. Hongjoong couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t handle the needles poking at his insides, the sense of wrongness following after him everywhere. Not even Mingi’s presence sedated him, not his short visits to the café house. Nothing explained the creepiness he was experiencing lately.

It was uncharacteristic, how a presence could flip everything.

Seonghwa picked on his remoteness and unusual jittery self. Whenever he tried approaching him, Hongjoong was skeptical and abnormally extra paranoid as if he wasn’t like that all along already.

It continued until Seonghwa sat beside him and took his hand. Hongjoong froze, couldn’t even shift as Seonghwa held both his tiny hands in his own and he was rubbing small circles in the middle of his palms, pressing ever so slightly. “They say this helps to calm down.” Seonghwa smiled and he was so beautiful. Unreasonably gorgeous like a celestial being. Once again, Hongjoong was reminded of a star so bright as if Seonghwa carried enough to afford him some of his lights if he wanted to.

Hongjoong bit at his lip and relaxed a bit, heat engulfed him as they sat in the corner of the café, hidden and concealed, the journal and pen abandoned with his half-finished drink on the table; sounds surrounding them reduced to make it feel like they existed in their fantasy bubble; where only them existed and that’s what mattered only.

“Yeah, you look better like this.” The thumbs moved from his palms to rub on his slender wrists. It felt oddly satisfying Hongjoong fought the embarrassing sounds trying to escape him, he wasn’t about to moan on a simple touch of hands. He blushed as he averted his eyes shyly, lashes casting shadows on his classy eyes.

A stupid thought accrued to Hongjoong and he suddenly wondered if San hadn’t said anything bad about him, and why he didn’t. Seonghwa shouldn’t act this way if San spoke awfully of him but Seonghwa acted alright with him since then. He wanted to question him but decided against it when the moment was too delicate to ruin in that way; instead, he bit his lip and pushed the topic to the back of his mind “You are doing it again.” Seonghwa lifted one hand to tug his lip off his teeth, “Don’t bite them.” The thumb lingered, Hongjoong’s eyes fluttered close, enjoying how the digit skimmed his lip precisely until he parted them reflexively in a soft breath “Don’t.” the whisper was husky, a bit dark. Hongjoong hooded eyes looked up at Seonghwa, the letter licking his lips “Don’t look at me like this.” Seonghwa warned, a glaze in his own eyes and Hongjoong tried to bite his lip for a second time but Seonghwa wouldn’t allow him when he tugged it again “If you want it bitten that badly—”

Hongjoong didn’t expect Seonghwa to dip in and bite his lip for him, a pathetic surprised moan sounded of him as Seonghwa kissed his mouth harshly, his lips would get sore but fuck it if he cared. He parted them and slanted his head back. Seonghwa groaned deep in his throat, “Fuck…” he gasped as he dragged his wet lips with his teeth before letting it free.

His lips numbed from the rough kiss. However, it was worth it, the lust in Seonghwa’s eyes as he crowded his personal space. He noticed the hand rubbing his thigh under the table, another rush in his blood forced him to shy away and drop his head to hide in Seonghwa’s chest, heaving hard “There are people…” the hand slowly dragged from his thigh to reach his own and thread their fingers together “Hmm…” Seonghwa whispered in his hair, close to his sensitive ear. Hongjoong tucked his face in Seonghwa’s neck, warmth and sharp scent invading his senses. It was a break he greatly needed.

Hongjoong calmed in his hold when Seonghwa’s hand patted his hair, the other rubbing soft circles on his hand.

-

-

\- 

It was late at night; they were in his room, a bit dim-lit and, their walk might have taken longer than intended because it was already past midnight.

Hongjoong closed the door as he leaned against it, staring at Seonghwa’s back who seemed to take a look around in silence, surprised or mayhap shocked by the number of books and handwritten journals scattered around, some new some few years old if he could remember he had some of his childhood days there as well.

He just liked writing that much he guessed.

“Messy I know.” Seonghwa snapped at his gentle whispers and he flipped around, Hongjoong met him with a soft stare. Hongjoong looked pretty in the dim lights, made him more delicate, smaller, he noticed how Seonghwa’s eyes lingered on him more than necessary and he smiled, genuinely.

Maybe the stares were that enchanting, maybe he fell under a spell but before he could catch it; his mouth uttered— “Can I ask for you to touch me?” Hongjoong whispered, Seonghwa’s eyes widened instantly— he inhaled sharply “What?”

“Is it too much… wanting to get touched by _you_ …?” Hongjoong stared down as he tapped his toes to the floor bashfully “I… it’s been so long…” the room suddenly felt much smaller under Seonghwa’s stare, for once he couldn’t see behind the classy eyes when the silence stretched, he whispered “ _please_ …”

Hongjoong let the door behind him hold his weight when he felt light on his feet, so weak he might fall under the mysterious stare. He wanted this, he fantasized about it, him and Seonghwa… it looked so pretty in his head, so nice to lay under his body and wither, to cry and scream his name like urgent prayers.

What was bad about wanting to be touched by the one person that held the universe in his eyes, he hadn’t had someone to show him such affection in the longest and suddenly the prospect of it being Seonghwa made him weak, breathless when they were still few feet apart, “Seonghwa—”

“How do you want it?” Seonghwa looked at him with unreadable eyes, maybe the long dark bangs over them concealed whatever emotion colored their haze “what kind of touches?” his breath hitched, eyes dilated and mouth parted a bit as he dared stare at Seonghwa’s eyes, he felt hot already, his back slid down the door a little.

“Anything…” it sounded obstructed, “just your hands… anywhere… _please._ ” he breathed, his hand rested shakily on the door behind him as he tried to keep up, fingers digging the surface.

Seonghwa walked, deliberately, as if weighing his choices with each step and Hongjoong didn’t realize he had held his breath in hesitation, _a touch._

He was close, so close, he could feel the heat seeping off his body, few inches apart, he lifted his hands and they trembled in front of him, scared to clutch Seonghwa’s shirt in his fists. 

Seonghwa stared down at him, in a way it was sinful. He leaned in slowly and let their bodies touch and their faces hovered close; Seonghwa tilted down and Hongjoong stared up at him pleadingly, breaths short and unsteady where their noses nuzzled “Anywhere…?” the faint murmur sent shivers along his spine and he fluttered his eyes closed, hands holding shakily to the shirt “Anywhere…” Hongjoong murmured back, could already feel their hot breaths mingling and it drove him insane but he wanted to be kissed, not the one kissing.

Hongjoong lungs tighten in anticipation, Seonghwa’s hands heavy on his narrow waist when he tilted his head a bit, and then he pressed their mouths together, lips moving slowly and Hongjoong felt like choking a cry, why were tears clinging to his lashes. When had they resurfaced?

He shuddered a breath against Seonghwa’s soft lips, hands clasped tighter onto Seonghwa’s shirt and he trembled because he was slowly falling apart there, the kiss wasn’t yet anything more than touches of lips, he wondered how many ways could he break underneath Seonghwa’s hands.

The hands at his waist dug deeper as the kiss intensified, Seonghwa seemed to sink in more when he easily slid a tongue between the parted lips, Hongjoong groaned at the row taste, no flavors or anything, just the taste of _him_.

His knees buckled but Seonghwa pressed him firmly to the door, the breath knocked out Hongjoong’s lungs at their bodies touching from head to toe, he wasn’t sure he even kissed back properly, he just let his lips move feebly and let Seonghwa kiss him whichever way he deemed him worthy of.

One of Seonghwa’s hands trailed up his body all the way rubbing his chest and laid on top of his thrumming heart, wilding within his ribs.

It was insane, was already delirious by the mere scent of Seonghwa’s, like abraded coffee, Hongjoong pushed at his chest to get a breath, a whine surging out of him and Seonghwa finally let go, slowly, torturously and he remained there, heavy pants fanning each other’s faces “Enough…?” Seonghwa whispered as he rubbed at his chest as if trying to tranquil the shaking mess in his arms, it didn’t help much, not when Hongjoong snapped frantically “— no! More Seonghwa— touch me _please_ —” Hongjoong pulled him by the shirt, scared he might lose the connection if he let go even a bit.

Seonghwa’s smile was both repentant yet severe, it did things when he leaned to kiss, or more like to mouth on his hot cheeks, teasingly, playfully. Hongjoong’s heart leaped off his chest but the hands sneaking around to hug him kept him secure, calm in a way felt ridiculous to his raging heart.

When Seonghwa kissed his neck, Hongjoong couldn’t help the small cute noise escaping him, it tickled, _god_ “S-Stop,” Hongjoong squirmed in his arms, couldn’t help it when a full giggle broke out, Seonghwa suddenly stopped, eyes wide when he looked leveled into Hongjoong’s eyes.

If Hongjoong felt hot before, he was now on flames. His cheeks probably red when he tried to shy away but Seonghwa didn’t let him, smiled so wide and grabbed him by the hands to throw him on the bed. Hongjoong didn’t have a second to catch his jelly legs when he got pressed to the sheets underneath Seonghwa’s heavier body.

Caged between two arms, Hongjoong looked up at him with wide glazed eyes, “You asked for this,” the chills he felt when Seonghwa leaned in to devour his mouth were so wild and rough as said boy sucked on his swollen lips, wet and hot they felt amazing Hongjoong moaned throatily at the abuse on his mouth.

Seonghwa moved to kiss his way all along his neck; sucking his throat deliciously and when he bit, Hongjoong choked a whine, body arching off the mattress but was quickly pushed down with Seonghwa’s, both of his hands at his hips, gripping so tight, the touches scorched and he was burning, his clothes almost felt suffocating around him.

When Seonghwa reached his collarbones, he halted a bit, panting when he pulled back to peal Hongjoong’s shirt off. Hongjoong didn’t bother covering up but he had his hand over his mouth and the other gripping the sheets so he wouldn’t block the view from Seonghwa’s eyes. The way he was looking at him, Hongjoong squirmed. Seonghwa looked _hungry._

“Seonghwa…” Hongjoong whined faintly, “touch me…” it was a breathless plea and Seonghwa complied when he ran his hands all over his flaming skin, his slender waist and over his chest. Hongjoong shuddered, small noises falling his lips; it just felt right being undone by Seonghwa, was this real?

Hongjoong didn’t dwell on the thought when Seonghwa grind their hips together and Hongjoong almost screamed but it ended up a stifled cry, he withered like falling leaves under Seonghwa’s body, he just laid there pliant and frail, letting himself get ruined without many thoughts, just the presence clouding him.

“You feel so…” Seonghwa breathed over his skin, above his chest and the air sent shivers all along his body. He couldn’t help the moan slipping him when Seonghwa licked at his perked nibble, taking it before sucking on it “ _god—_ ” Hongjoong keened at the pleasure coursing through him, he was on fire— another gasp when Seonghwa tweaked his other nibble before rubbing his chest to ease the sting. He kneaded the skin in his hand making Hongjoong writhe underneath him yet not able to do anything but pant heavily, already hard enough.

“I like how… it feels like I’m holding you together in my hands… you trusting me like… this…” Seonghwa murmured as he sucked lightly on his nibble before letting it go to nuzzle his chest in a sweet gesture, resting his forehead against his heartbeats, against his rising and falling chest; Seonghwa kissed between his ribs lightly “You are beautiful…” another light kiss as he trailed his mouth down, down with his hands, gentle and light yet _there_.

Hongjoong wanted to stare at him but closed his eyes; threw his head back into the pillows as he spread his legs wider for Seonghwa to settle in between. He wanted to give up himself as much as he could; he wanted Seonghwa to have as much as he wanted to take from him— so he laid his body malleably with no resistance. 

Seonghwa trailed his lips down until he hovered above his crotch and Hongjoong didn’t expect it when he rubbed his face against his hardened bulge not even biting it through the fabric of his pants “S-Seonghw— ahh—!” Hongjoong didn’t intend to thrust in his face but it was instinctive, he was about to apologize but lost his voice when Seonghwa did it again, this time holding his hips down more firmly.

“I’ve got you…” Seonghwa sounded in a trance when he slipped his pants down slowly, eyes not taking off his length as it sprinted free and hard, red and leaking against his stomach.

Seonghwa groaned deep in his throat, it came with no warning when he took him in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tip and licked the cum dripping. 

Hongjoong trembled madly as he fisted his hands in the sheets but it wasn’t enough to control himself; with each swallow around his cock, he shook and sobs stood at the tip of his mouth, biting down on his lips so he wouldn’t cry out, tears already clinging to his lashes as Seonghwa swallowed him mercilessly, hot and wet and deep; holding his quivering hips down with both hands.

Hongjoong squirmed and whined but still begged Seonghwa to take more of him. He wanted so desperately to thrust into his mouth but couldn’t. One of his hands fisted in Seonghwa’s hair and Seonghwa moaned around his length, it sent insane tremors all over his body and he let a cry escape him mixed with a gasp, huffs and pants tumbling at the tightening feeling in his guts. He was about to come so hard and so messy, “S-Seonghwa-ahh— _god_ —!” he droned out loud and Seonghwa let him free but his hand still circled his throbbing cock

“Hmm?” Hongjoong couldn’t believe a simple low raspy hum could jolt him this alive. He begged, clear and lurid to let him come and Seonghwa didn’t prohibit him from his release, instead, he was jerking him off while leaning his cheek on top of Hongjoong’s one probed up knee while watching the cum spill all over his abdomen, white and glossy as Hongjoong cried his name repeatedly, desperate and delirious. Hongjoong felt like dragged to the edge of a hill and got pulled back at the last second, tumbling down into pure ecstasy.

It took a while for him to catch his breath, lips never leaving his skin. Sensitivity made him shiver and whine at the slightest touches and Seonghwa chuckled, “Sensitive?” the heat resurfaced back to his face. Hongjoong averted his eyes but that was enough invitation for Seonghwa to bury his face in his neck, inhaling deeply, “Oh god you are so enticing—” Seonghwa bit at his earlobe before he unzipped his pants and before Hongjoong could get it together, he arched off the bed when Seonghwa’s dick rubbed along his own. The friction both painful yet pleasurable; it sent spikes down his spin where Seonghwa had sneaked his arms to wrap around his small waist.

His head was swimming, Seonghwa’s low grunts above his ear and hands gripping his hips, the rough thrusts beating him to the mattress. Hongjoong’s voice echoed the room. He felt euphoric, he had no power to move his own hands as he laid exposed on the bedding for him. For Seonghwa to take all of him.

“Feels good?” Seonghwa hummed breathlessly by his ear; nuzzled his nose before trailing it down his sweaty skin to kiss his neck and nip lightly, not leaving marks but still they felt as amazing. “ _So good—_ ” Hongjoong choked on a hard push. Oh god, he should be thankful Seonghwa didn’t fuck him then because he didn’t think he would handle it without blacking out. His vision already blurred a couple of times but he refused to forsake the moment. His soft whimpers were melodies in the room, different to Seonghwa’s rasps and gruff grunts.

“S-Seonghwa— Hwa plea—ahh oh god—” Hongjoong clawed at the mattress, “I’m gonna c-come— Hwa!” he gasped repeatedly for air as he tumbled into blur clouds of frenzy, Seonghwa hissed his name into his ear as he tightened his grips, he came on his stomach. Not like Hongjoong was in any state to complain about the mess, he barely held his eyelids open, chest rising and falling in lungsful “Hwa…” he whispered his name, his hand tried to touch him but for a second his hands reached nothing. He blinked his eyes but the room was dark and his vision was blended, a haze filled his head and he thought it might have something to do with how hard they went when he had no sexual activity in so long.

“Hwa…?” he tried again to feel him, to hear the breath and smell his scent but it was as if his senses were dimmed. He felt lightheaded, he didn’t want to blackout, not yet. “H-Hwa answer me…” his voice shook and anxiety resurfaced, he made grapy hands but it reached nothing, just thin air. His chest constricted, the ugly panic peeking at him and he rubbed at his eyes harshly, tried to see when tears obscured his vision worse than it already was.

He sniffled as he tried to curl on himself sideways, fear dancing on his skin mockingly. What have I done?

He tried to hide within himself but he couldn’t when arms took hold of him “—m here, listen to me— Hongjoong.” At the sound of his voice, Hongjoong looked up and the sight still blurred but he could make out Seonghwa’s worried face “God…” Seonghwa exhaled solemnly “Look at me.” he couldn’t. Sobs took over him and he was crying so hard, rubbing his eyes harshly, he wheezed irrepressibly.

“Why are you crying…?” Hongjoong didn’t want to ruin the moment, didn’t want to break just yet but he already did and there was a vicious feeling in his chest, in his heart, and it closely resembled a bitter feeling like insane wickedness.

He once again didn’t know why he was assaulted by the continuous horrendous feeling; why now when he had what he wanted in so long. When Seonghwa was touching him so lovingly— it felt like if he opened his eyes he would disappear. All of this would disappear and he would discover Seonghwa didn’t exist.

Because life was awful and it wasn’t that generous. It wouldn’t give him Seonghwa that easily and he knew it.

He was scared.

“Look at me… Hongjoong open your eyes.” Hongjoong shook his head hysterically. His eyes scrunched shut and when he tried to cover them with his hands, Seonghwa pinned them to the mattress. He almost didn’t feel the touch with how gentle he was handling him. It didn’t relieve his paranoia.

He wanted to scream at Seonghwa to wreck him, to show him everything was real even if it meant pain—physical pain but words locked themselves in his chest and he heaved. He was weeping in melancholy. His chest hurt, all of it hurt down to his ribs and aching lungs and even his heart; it was about to stop with how worked up he got himself— “Shush… Hongjoong… Hongjoong baby look at me…” Seonghwa’s voice was struggling to keep calm, there was a hand in his hair threading in soothingly. It welled his cries more miserably.

Hongjoong felt Seonghwa bury his face in the crook of his neck. His hands letting go of his own to slide underneath his frail frame to hold him, pressing him up to his chest— “I’m here… calm down… breathe... I’m here…”

“… I’m-m s-scared— S-Seonghwa I’m scared-d—” Hongjoong still didn’t open his eyes when he tucked his face into Seonghwa’s shoulder, sobbing heavily “Why? Why are you scared?”—

“You are not real.” Hongjoong thought he might throw up with the words but he clamped his mouth shut straightway. Seonghwa’s arms tightened tenaciously around him “Why? Why would you think I-I’m not real?” Seonghwa’s voice wavered slightly but he kept a better composure than Hongjoong. Hongjoong could only hope of a fraction of that stability but he wouldn’t even dream of it— “I don’t know-w… my chest hurts, it f-feels l-like all of this is not r-real— you aren’t real— I-I can’t have y-you… how can I have you?” Hongjoong inhaled the words, below whispers but Seonghwa heard him with how close they pressed close.

“No… this is real. What we have done is real. You are in my arms and I’m holding you, I’m not letting you go… Hongjoong I’m real.” The words were reassuring but Seonghwa didn’t know. Seonghwa didn’t understand what the fuck he was feeling and what these sickening hollows were doing inside him.

Seonghwa didn’t know of the silhouettes or the voices that followed him. He didn’t know of the constant horror he could never understand like it was part of himself, threaded through his flesh and bones he couldn’t identify where it began or ended.

Seonghwa didn’t understand the terrifying sense of fear being his self. Not knowing why it existed, what was the fear; why he feared Seonghwa would be gone once his eyes were open.

He felt sick.

Hongjoong clung to him like dear life. He thought Seonghwa’s neck would bruise with how tight his arms circled it but he needed this closeness. Even when they were both naked and pressed close, he wanted more. He didn’t know how he would and how much it needed to settle a truce with the demons inside him but he tried, he tried to touch in as many ways possible.

Limbs and bodies tangled with kisses and desperate touches and when finally he decided to open his eyes, bracing himself for darkness, Seonghwa was looking down at him. For a second he wished he wasn’t, for the agony held in his pretty orbs could tear one apart.

They shone, they undeservingly held pain and fright and he looked scared. For a second it felt like Hongjoong was staring into a mirror reflecting his own miserable eyes— Hongjoong nuzzled his face, borrowed their noses together, whimpering softly like a pained animal and he whispered weak mixes of sorries and assurances and he didn’t want to freak out when a single tear, not his own, wetted his cheek.

“Shush… it’s fine… it’s okay, see?” Seonghwa smiled wetly as he rubbed his nose against his damp cheek, “I’m still here…” he kissed his eyes, wet lashes and trailed down the side of his face along his jaw with soft feather kisses— “I’m still here… it’s all in your head.”

-

-

-

-

-

-

Hongjoong didn’t want to wake up the next morning. The things he first noticed his body ached, his throat sore and his eyes felt dry he could barely open them as he groaned.

He was worn-out and drowsy. He barely caught Seonghwa’s voice bidding him goodbye for his afternoon shift, promising he would call with a goodbye kiss on his head. It drew a sleepy smile on his lips as the touch disappeared and he returned to the realm of sleep.

After the mental breakdown he went through the night before, he decided he deserved that much rest.

When he woke up next, there was water and clean clothes by his nightstand with a handwritten note, telling him ‘sorry I had to leave, come visit me later.’ It was already nighttime, the sun nowhere to be found in his dim room.

He moved to get up when a form caught the ring of his sight; he immediately snapped his head up to the top of the drawer. There sat a silhouette curled on itself, its back to him.

His throat cloaked up and panic seized him “Finally awake?” the murky form muttered bitterly, a snarl in his voice. ‘ _his_ ’ because the voice was of a boy, a child.

This was the first time the shadows spoke to him, they never did. They almost passed like daydreams and almost sleep-paralysis. Hongjoong dug his nails in his thighs bit by bit not to appear as if he was doing anything suspicious though he still winced at the burn. His heart pounded “This is not a dream.” The apparition glanced at him, his back still to him as he laid there on top of the drawer “Stop hurting yourself trying to find out.” Yes, he knew at the back of his head it wasn’t a dream. Whom was he lying to?

“B-But—” his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, sweat slipped his cold skin. This was insane, was he seeing ghosts now? Was this fucking real? He never believed they existed “I’m not a ghost either.” Hongjoong’s eyes widened in shock, did the apparition hear his thoughts?

“I’m… a reminiscence.” The form whispered, twitching a bit “Of course you wouldn’t know.” He sneered scornfully, reeking dark waves similar to ashes. When he turned around he manifested into a little boy with vague features as if his face was blended black, gray and white splashes with hues of red— “WHEN DID YOU EVER KNOW!!” the scream cracked the eerily hushes, Hongjoong screamed along in shock as the boy’s eyes glossed red as if he cried blood for tears and they remained in his white.

He couldn’t see the foggy face but the stare was flaring in aggression. The boy jumped off the two meters drawer and stalked to him or more like he drifted swiftly through the air. Hongjoong cried; he crawled back on the bed, back pressed to the wall as the manifestation closed on him. He was on the bed in front of him. His ashen hands reeked dark smolder as they hovered above his pale face. Before they touched him, he whispered—“ _Wake up._ ” and the apparition morphed into thin obscure glooms.

Hongjoong remained paralyzed in his spot, he didn’t know how long but he stayed until the tears dried and his body cooled down from the penetrating shudders. When he moved he only shifted to grab his blanket and hid under it in false security, curled in the smallest form he could manage, migraine unyielding but that was the last thing he paid it mind.

He was afraid; if he turned around, he would find the apparition on his drawer watching him again.

He tried to soothe himself that it was only an outrageous phantasm trying to take root in his imagination; that this was a major stress and his worsening mental health; but that made it far scarier. He refused to believe the problem ingrained itself in him.

-

-

-

He needed him, he didn’t care if he was overstepping boundaries or pushing his luck or even showing up as a maniac in front of his eyes because the irritation and nerves were wrecking his mind and body and he didn’t know what to do anymore.

At first, it was just the silhouette of the little boy, roaming or walking around the house silently. He would find him in weird places, not particularly hiding, but just existing there. He would sit in the living room and the apparition would be there staring at him from the furthest corner, he would see shadows and eyes only, almost blended with the darkness of it. He would go sleep but see a form shaping on his bed, reeking smolders and staring blankly at the ceiling. Even when he would step into the bathroom, the shades were on the bathtub curled with their head facing the wall.

He thought it couldn’t get worse, but more of them appeared. More silhouettes, more glooms, more voices kept taunting him, _“STAY AWAY FROM ME!!”_ They continued mocking him sardonically. Sometimes they whisper hushes and other times he heard screams echoing the empty house as they clapped against every surface _“STOP S-STOP PLEASE!”_

He would close his eyes and crawl under his bed but the whispers still tailed him, as if knitted to his head, whenever he was, they followed. _“P-Please leave me…”_ He was frightened, fright didn’t come close to the feelings like rocks in his lungs, weighing down until he couldn’t breathe or move his body on most nights. The house never felt that freezing cold and big before.

They knew him. More like, they acted as if they did. They had no face but they spoke like they had known him his whole life; as if they knew him better than _he_ knew himself.

They would bang on the doors telling him to wake up _“SHUT UP—!”_ resonance horrifying when the house was an inhabitant. He would hear them cry. Sometimes, the apparition of the small boy would sob all night he wouldn’t blink an eye. “ _W-Why are you c-crying?”_ The cries wretched and angry, everytime ended up in screams and maniac screeches as he clawed on his door, shouting at him to look him in the face. However, he was too freaked out to glance. 

He didn’t think he had slept in days, hadn’t left the house either, hadn’t had a proper meal without his intense migraine making him vomit it all. A foreign voice would tell him ‘ _it’s going to be alright’_ but it would freak him more than provide comfort. 

He didn’t understand, didn’t want to tell anyone in case they wouldn’t believe him and think he was crazy. He wouldn’t blame them though, he was going insane the more the beating on his walls intensified, the windows and doors cracking and slamming furiously telling him to _‘WAKE UP!’_

He still didn’t know; wake up from what? When he asked the silhouettes one time, they told him _he knew_ and _he shouldn’t act like he didn’t_.

They would recite _‘it’s all in your head~ it’s all in your head~ it’s all in your he—’_ like a cheerful scornful song and dance around him and when he would freak out and fall into panic they would spit ‘ _you are sick’_ before they slipped out and left him with the venomous words and deafening silence he had no idea how long it would last.

Those times a small voice appeared. Different than the angry one. 

It was distinctive. It seemed timid and small; it belonged to a red shade that glowed like a small torch sometimes. 

It whispered reassurances to him, telling him it’s going to be okay before it slipped through the surfaces. This one apparition particularly sounded sorrowful. Despite the vague image of it. The red shade always sounded sad and he would find it sniffling alone. Each time he tried to see it. It would disappear before he could understand why it spent the nights crying. 

Unlike the angry silhouettes, this one was depressed.

Later, the small voice appeared, the first time he saw the red silhouette it was sitting beside the angry boy, hugging the murky shadow. He was another child. A boy with a different vague face but he recognized the crimson hues on him. 

They disappeared before he could fathom what he saw. 

-

That night was as mortifying if not more because when he woke up, there was a smell of smoldering ashes suffocating him and when he got out of his room, the house was on fire.

Hongjoong felt the heat on his skin scalding him, heard people cry as if they were being scorched alive in the fires eating everything. His body paralyzed and even when he wanted to move, panic seized him to the point no muscle followed any of his commands. He stood by the top of the stairs, bracing himself on the railings as tears stung his bloodshot eyes.

 _‘Why are you crying?’_ He almost fell from the stairs when the murky boy appeared, sat beside him on top of the stairs, watching the flames inhale everything. How could he not cry? This was a catastrophic nightmare. The sensations were real, the fires were real, the sounds of the wood crackle as it burned into shimmering coal and even the stench, he could smell the smoke cloaking the air and something else he couldn’t identify but it smelled sickening disgusting like burnt hair and meat.

 _‘I don’t think you should worry about them,’_ the scene was devastating and horrific— the shadows wailing in the flames, they were petrifying he was about to throw up any minute.

_‘Hongjoong save us!!’_

The cries turned to wretched calls for help, to save them as the ceiling lit with the luminance of the merciless flames and looming shades. _‘They deserve it, all of it.’_ The boy said nonchalantly, his bloodshot eyes glowered with pure cold hatred.

His legs gave up on him and he fell on his back, bracing his body with shaking unstable arms, he turned his head away from the scene and vomited on the carpeted floor, tears burned his eyes as he dry-heaved until he choked on nothing.

 _‘Don’t listen to him…’_ A pressure rubbing his back urged him to another wave of throwing up his empty acidic stomach, the burn soured his throat as he coughed roughly. The red shadow eyed him sympathetically as if trying to comfort him, tiny deformed hands covered his ears but they blocked nothing. When did he appear?

 _‘Why are you working yourself up?’_ The murky dark apparition whispered to him irritatingly, still seated on the stairs. 

Hongjoong was too wound up to stay awake. His head like cotton candy, his stomach churned and his vision swam with an intense headache and his ears buzzed menacingly— he was about to blackout. He wished he could blackout right there and then—

_‘If you get a second try, you would still do it all over again.’_

-

-

Hongjoong woke up with an incredible sourness in his throat, body cramped and head so fuzzy it took him a moment to take note of the stench and where he was laying.

He was passed out by the stairs, vomit dry on the floor beside him. And the house— it looked like no fire had happened in there.

Memories of what he saw rushed in and before he could count on it he ran, ran so fast with his socketed feet and home pajamas; everything is a blur until he fell into the arms he needed the most— “Hey hey, what is wrong?” Hongjoong held into Seonghwa’s body so tight he was sure he would bruise him but still— the cries exhausted his body until his head floated from the light haziness but he still refused to let go.

He was semiconscious when Seonghwa pulled him away from the watchful eyes of the people in the café to the back room. He sat down and let him settle in his lap, he immediately curled in his chest. Seonghwa’s arms cradled him and the warmth he hadn’t felt in days engulfed his body, heartbeats underneath his ear lulling him into safety he needed so much.

The cries slowed to sniffles and small wheezes, tiny fists clenching weakly to Seonghwa’s uniform “I’m sorry…” the only words his brain could gather right then were apologies “It’s okay… I have you now…” Seonghwa kissed his temple, rubbed his rigid muscles, surrounded him with his body as much as he could and Hongjoong felt the most grateful he hadn’t realized the exhaustion had caught up to him he blacked out.

-

-

-

It wasn’t supposed to go that way, it was another normal day he figured, but not when he returned from the bathroom and there stood Seonghwa with his back turned to him, in front of the table he usually sat at in the corner of the café.

He didn’t think twice when he skipped toward him and snaked his arms around his middle, wrapping him in a back hug.

Hongjoong buried his face into his back, inhaling his scent deeply, unlike all the time he smelled him, this one time felt strong and prominent, as if real. Not like he wasn’t real before, it was just… definite?

A couple of seconds passed before Seonghwa flinched and pulled away from him. When he turned around, Hongjoong frowned before he was met with frightened eyes?

Seonghwa looked terrified, face pale and eyes wide open, his mouth moving but no words escaped as if he was choking, gapping like a fish. Hongjoong felt the sinking feeling in his chest slowly spreading.

Before he could comprehend what was happening, the drop of his journal from Seonghwa’s hands snapped his attention and he stared at the object on the ground.

A chill sensation washed over him as if he was drenched in freezing water. His insides ran cold and it was like all the blood rush out of his head, his heart beat hideously, so fucking loud he couldn’t hear his own whispered ‘ _Why_ …?’

The sensation didn’t even come close to fear, it was a dreadful hole sucking him in and he wondered how long could he hold his body and mind together, the shakes in his limbs were mad as he met Seonghwa’s similar ghastly eyes.

He felt sick.

Wrong 

This was gravely wrong. 

“What is this?” Seonghwa reached a trembling hand and grabbed the journal from the ground, “what the fuck is this?!” he screamed, people around them probably staring but it felt like they were sucked into a void where they stood on their own— “Answer me!!” 

Seonghwa never yelled, never shouted like this… like a hurricane. Seonghwa always been calm and collected, always been warm and welcoming. Now he was mad, fucking mad angry and Hongjoong eyes distorted, not with tears but his vision acted on him like statics warping them up in thin overlapped horizontal lines.

His hands flew to his face, pressing the heels of his hands to his eye as he gasped sharply. The pressure inside his head was massive; outrageously unbearable he thought he might collapse to the floor before his skull would crack from the force of it blowing inside. He wanted to scream but he felt his throat cloak up, his tongue heavy in his mouth; it was choking him.

He swayed only to catch himself on the chair beside him with a trembling hand, ears whirring boisterously, migraine intensifying as he pressed harder on his eyes with his other hand— not enough, not enough! 

He gasped. When he opened his eyes to peer up at Seonghwa, his vision warped once more; same lines falsifying his sight, colors merged, shuffled from outrageously neon bright to black and white. He couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t hear; he couldn’t feel anything aside the excruciating agony inside his skull, it felt like torture and he was yelling, he was screaming as he fell to the ground, knees hitting the ground harshly but he clutched his hands to his hair, incredibly tight, there was a pain but where did it come from? He didn’t know, everything hurt, everything piercing and sharp.

He doubled over when he felt bile rose to his mouth. When he opened his eyes the black and white were red, the ground was red; whose screams were these? Was this his voice? Whose voice was this? Why there were screams, he wanted to look, he wanted to see what the fuck was happening, why everyone was crying out loud— but another wave of inflating pain hit him he threw up on the ground again from the anguish pain.

 _Run_. 

He ran, wait— why was he running? When did he start running? Where the fuck was he going?

He was slipping in and out of consciousness, didn’t know if his head was in the right place or if he was aware enough if he was awake or maybe not— was whatever he was doing real or just fragments of his hallucinating brain?

 _Stay Awake._ A resonance kept nagging him urgently, it almost cried for him to remain conscious— Why the desperation? The echoes never treated him that way—

He walked the night streets; the chill was awful in his thin clothes, not enough for a November night. It was quiet, cold tears on his cheeks and hiccups rocking his small body. His vision once again blurred and twisted and his surroundings kept merging and flipping upside down sickeningly. The streets were empty as he walked without purpose. He kept hitting his head as he stumbled, whenever his mind threatened of collapsing, he clawed at his skin and pulled his hair harshly— anything aside falling back into that loop—

But what was he supposed to do?

He couldn’t take this anymore. The pain was too awful. Existing in his own body felt claustrophobic and he felt trapped— nowhere to go. Nowhere to run from his head, from who he was.

Where would a lost soul reside? Where would he go? Whom would he go to?

Was he lost?

He was frightened— he was desolate, he was aimless.

_Stay Awake—_

He crashed to the ground, in the middle of an empty street. He looked at the sky and no star shined on him, no guidance, nowhere to follow. He closed his eyes with a choked breath, biting air cutting his throat but he wasn’t conscious enough, so maybe he passed out, did he pass out?

Did he forget already? What did he forget? Why was he here again?

_Stay Awake!_

When he raised a hand to wipe his face, he felt thick wetness smear on his skin, he lifted the shaky hand to the sky above him; drops were landing on his face.

Thick red drops.

-

-

-

 **Figments:** Things that someone believes to be real but exists only in their imagination.

-

-

-

His eyelids were heavy when he tried to crack them open. All of his body was heavy. When he tried to move his fingers, he wasn’t sure if they moved, where was he?

There was a constant background peeping somewhere, slow and calm, machinery or something, there was also a lot of white, even when he was sure his eyes were slightly opened, he couldn’t see anything aside white, he closed his eyes again and breathed.

He felt weak like his body was there but he had no control over it— “You are finally awake?”

He tried to tilt his face toward the feminine voice but it was almost impossible to move any muscles in his body, “You are probably still under the effects of medication and long rest, let me call the doctor in to check on you.” Doctor… what doctor? What happened? Where was he?

It took a while for the doctor to check on his vitals all the while murmuring easing words and telling him how lucky, he was alive. He wanted to panic but that was hard when his body didn’t belong to him, the doctor said he would lower the dosage of medication bit by bit until his body takes up the changes also he should start to move around bit by bit until his body return to its original place.

It was weird; the day he spent them trying to recall everything, Seonghwa? He remembered Seonghwa, he remembered the café, and he remembered Mingi as well.

When he tried to recollect the fractions missing, one by one he recalled how he ran away from the café after he freaked out after Seonghwa read his journal. What was written in the journal? When he tried to look in it in his head, that part of memory was misshapen, as if the ink watered down to blurred unreadable words.

Something was wrong, what was wrong?

Why wasn’t Seonghwa there beside him?

Why there was no one here?

When he first got his voice back, it was hoarse and scrapped, hadn’t been used in— “How long have I been here…?” he croaked out and the doctor looked at him sympathetically “Thirteen months.”

It was like reality crashed him full-force, like hollering truck slamming into him headstrong one didn’t know what to make of it— thirteen months? Thirteen fucking months? If he wasn’t under medication he might have panicked but he could barely control his mouth to speak “I-Impossible, what d-do you mean thi— thirteen months…?”

The doctor looked sadly at him, “A car accident, there was no alcohol in your system or consumption of drugs so we don’t know exactly why you were laying in the middle of a highway. A car at night crashed into you, arrived at the hospital half-dead. We saved you but you remained in a coma the past thirteen months—” the doctor explained but it didn’t make sense “b-but— I remember waking up after laying there. I went home. I met Seonghwa after; I met a lot of peop—”

“Who is Seonghwa?” Hongjoong felt the air slip his lungs as if something pressing hard down on his chest; panic.

“Seonghwa— m-my— friend, m-my—” his tongue felt heavy in his mouth, his breathing trying to remain controlled under the medication “I met him after my grandmother died— few days after my grandmother died—”

“Your grandmother died five years ago according to our reports. When we searched for your relatives...” What… What? _Impossible_ , she used to live with him throughout college; she died the senior year, close after graduation, _a few days before that night_ , where he laid on the ground. He woke up then and met Seonghwa.

What was going on? There was no way his grandmother died five years ago! What about Seonghwa?

He met Seonghwa after the accident.

Alternatively, that's what it's supposed to be. Not the doctor telling him he got into a coma since that night and woke up thirteen months later. How did he meet Seonghwa then?

“How do you even know? How do you even know when my grandmother died?”

“We have records and we researched with the police. She died in the same accident as your parents.” What…? He didn’t recall any of this, his parents died five years ago, his grandmother took him in. She was definitely alive.

Everything was too much, it didn’t make any sense. What was happening? The fuck was going on. “How did you know who I am?”

“Police helped also you had an id in your phone cover.”

“Is my phone there?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t believe so. It was smashed mostly.”

“This doesn’t make any sense…” Hongjoong whispered, a frail hand barely making it to rub his face “This could be a side effect of the hit, we can assign you a psychologist to check you—” he didn’t know why when he mentioned a psychologist his breath caught or why his skin prickled “n-no— give me a minute, it’s just…”

“It’s okay, everything is a normal reaction,” what the fuck was normal about all of this “if you need anything a nurse will come to aid you frequently.”

Hours, Hongjoong spent hours rummaging through his head, about a clue to whatever the fuck was in his head. What was going on?

He remembered laying on the ground after his grandmother’s death; he woke up then and met Seonghwa.

However, if he was hit and spent more than a year in a coma and just woke up, how did he meet Seonghwa? Did Seonghwa exist?

What were these memories in his head then? The last thing he recalled was going out of the café, what happened before and after? Why did he run out? Why did his head throb when he tried to tread the territory, maybe nothing of it happened, where did he end up going?

He might have gone insane, he didn’t know, was Seonghwa real or not, was this a coma induced figments? How would he know?

Was he ready to know?

The hospital refused to discharge him, but after his third day in the place, his nerves rattled and he couldn’t do it anymore, he had to go home. Had to find out what was right and what was wrong. He sneaked out behind their backs the third night.

He walked sullenly to his home, barely making it when his body wasn’t used to motions just yet. When he stepped in, it was hummed and dusty, abandoned for thirteen months. Now it felt a bit ghosted and eerie, a heavy feeling settled on Hongjoong’s heart and he felt… lonely.

He decided to clean a little even if his body screamed at him to rest for the time being but he wasn’t about to live in this dirt, it took all his time and he was thankful it averted the sinking feeling in his chest even if for barely a few hours.

It all though returned when he laid on his bed and his eyes roamed the dusty journals, hadn’t been opened in so long, long before his grandmother’s death. Now that he was thinking about it, he never opened a book after finishing them.

Despite his aching body, Hongjoong crouched down in front of a pile, he looked at the dates, he wanted the one in his memory, the one supposed to be in the fragments that held Seonghwa’s last appearance.

He remembered Seonghwa picking the journal and shouting at him and then he ran. If the memories were real then the journal should be somewhere somehow.

He searched for so long but he couldn’t find it, it then crashed on him. He left it in the café, it was in Seonghwa’s hands, but Seonghwa didn’t exist how would he know?

No Seonghwa, no journal, no clue if whatever he remembered was real or not? Were the memories where they walked on random nights, talked about the stars and held hands, where they kissed and Seonghwa held him against his warm body… were they only in his head? Was Seonghwa his coma induced character?

Was he real? Was he not?

Hongjoong felt the headache come back once more; it hurt, as it remained throbbing dully at the back of his head. He laid sideways on the bed, eyeing the scattered papers and abandoned writings.

Time ticked and the silence stretched, he was lonely. Was he always this lonely? Why didn’t he stay up in his head, in that coma, maybe it was a blessing to remain under permanent sleep where everything could happen, the café, Seonghwa, and _Mingi_ …

He shouldn’t have woken up, to begin with, those figments were much prettier than the darkroom he laid in.

It was only eight pm, it was just one day but it was so long, so suffocating, devastating to deal with because there was literally nothing.

A single tear slid down his eye to disappear into the pillow, his chest heaved tiredly. He still refused to cry despite the wetness hanging to his long lashes.

He was about to close his eyes when he noticed something, they immediately snapped open.

The color purple. He hated purple but there was a material behind his chair on the ground, purple shirt… a purple shirt he never owned.

A purple shirt bigger than him.

A purple shirt he remembered returning to Seonghwa…

What the fuck was it doing in his room?

Was it even Seonghwa’s shirt? These didn’t make sense, the fractions didn’t add up.

He was about to pull his hair off, no, he wasn’t crazy, he wasn’t mental!

_You need to be checked in Hongjoong._

_But mom, I’m scared…_

_You are sick; they need to take you._

_I’m not sick, I just miss you._

_Take him._

_Yes, Mrs. Kim._

_M-Mom? Mom… Mom!! I’m not sick! I’m not crazy… don’t… leave me alone—_

Hongjoong choked at the random fraction that resurfaced his head, like a flashback playing in front of his eyes.

Like… he was the little boy watching the woman send him away in a foreign vehicle with unknown men; like he was the one calling her _mom._

What were these? What was going on? Hongjoong shook in place, pressed his knees to his chest in fear as he curled like a small ball and more lights shined in vision. His eyes wide and misty but he could see; he could see the white walls, white coats, the leather bondages and many doses of whatever they injected him with and the cries— they weren’t his. They belonged to the little boy’s ones, he saw how lonely he was, how scared he was, how he was secluded in isolation in a room on his own with no one to visit for days; months, _years._

He didn’t want to remember, he didn’t want to see these, where were these fractions coming from? They weren’t real, were they? But why did he suddenly remember the feel of the cold tiles underneath his bare feet, the artificial smell of the empty white room and the foreign hands touching him?

Why could he remember the ache in his wrists when they tugged hard against the restraints?

They were real. They felt real, Hongjoong rubbed at his bare wrists to erase off the sensations, more like scratching to override the feeling with a more prominent one.

He was scared.

He was scared so much he took glances around his room as if those people would somehow show up out of nowhere. He blinked the mist in his eyes and suddenly the room looked like the hospital one in his fractionated memories; there were no journals, no papers scattered around, no dust on surfaces, just a white simplistic room too bright for his eyes. But the lights were out? Where did these lights come from— Hongjoong suddenly yelped as a massive pain rushed inside his skull, scrapping at the bones inside as if wanting to pierce out, Hongjoong screamed as he curled more on himself, pulled his hair off in intensity of the row feeling, too much, t-too much—

“Hey…” He heard a rather familiar voice and he snapped up immediately, eyes wide as he looked around him in horror, where did the voice come from? He couldn’t recognize it— “Hey Hongjoong…” he shrieked aloud as he blinked and the room formed back to his dark one. “I’m here,” he blinked and the room was white again. He was fucking terrified; he kept twisting around himself, searching for the young boy’s voice. “Yes here,” the gentle voice whispered behind him— he almost snapped his neck when he turned fast, falling on his butt. 

By the white corner stood a short redhead, a young child with a smile “I’m back—” he yelped in shock and shut his eyes— his body shook as he blinked his eyes again, the boy had disappeared along the white walls.

What was this? Where did he come from? Where did he go? 

He crawled around the room; he reached the corner the boy stood at moments ago. There were piles of dusty journals and letters, the one on top read ‘ _an adventure through psycho wards_ ’ before he could reach it with his shaky hands “Why did you forget it?” he yelled at the breath by his ear. He turned around and the boy was so close; his heart in his throat he thought he might faint from the palpitations rocking his chest but suddenly he sidetracked the fear at the sad look on the boy’s face, the tears in the corners of his eyes. 

And he recognized it. This sad tone belonged to the red silhouette. But now stood in a boy’s form in front of him. 

He was hurt yet he smiled “Why did you forget me…” he reached a hesitant hand, he wanted to flinch but the hand was small when it rested on his head, patting him softly… it was very familiar “Why did you shut me out!!” Hongjoong screeched at the sudden outburst, his heart beating intensely with a resolute headache, he groaned in pain as the boy’s cries drummed against his head mercilessly. “You forgot me!! I was there the whole time but you never stopped to remember me!! Not the adventures we had together!! Not the time we spent!!!” the boy threw hands in anger, face red with devastation and veins resurfaced his pale skin— “I loved you!! You were my one friend!! We’ve always been friends!!” The boy sobbed as he scrubbed horrendously at his eyes and cheeks, nails disgustingly getting caught in his wet skin— “We were f-friends…” his voice cracked and his breaths came in stutters “But you left… you left and never remembered me…”

Hongjoong didn’t know why, in what sensible mind was he supposed to hug the little boy but it wretched his heart seeing him heave up in cries he couldn’t control. He was on his knees as he pulled the boy’s head to his shoulder, the child clutched to his shirt and wailed “Shush…” he whispered in his dry voice “I’m sorry…” he was genuinely sorry, because he truly didn’t recall, didn’t know who he was “It wasn’t in my control… I… I forgot a lot of things; I don’t even know what reality and what a dream is anymore.”

“Our adventure.” The small boy sniffled as he pulled away, a bit calmer “The journal…” he walked— more like floated— around him to the piles of journals. Hongjoong followed where his tiny hand pointed, “You will find me there.” The boy smiled at him with so many emotions, one more tear escaped his eyes “Please… _remember me.”_ He blinked and the boy had vanished from existence.

“W-Wait—! Where did you go?! Come back!” Hongjoong looked frantically around him— he didn’t want to be left alone. He didn’t know why the redhead’s presence settled him down. “Don’t leave me!” but now it was gone, a new wave of anxiety beat at his body and he scrambled on his knees to grab the battered journal on top. His hands shook as he wiped the dust with his sleeve, teardrops fell on the covers before he flipped it open and he saw the yellowish pages, scribbled in a childish font, grammar mistakes and many faults that been scratched in ink instead of being erased ‘ _Can we be friends? I’m Mingi.’_

Mingi...

Mingi?

_._

_._

_How could he forget Mingi?_

And then everything came crashing in, like a huge tidal wave Hongjoong felt wash over him, freezing cold and fatal, he dropped the journal from his numb hands.

For a few minutes, he stilled as memories played one by one in his head. He surged, he got up hastily but fell halfway to the ground. He crawled his way before he could stand, he ran out of the room, out of the house, he didn’t realize he was bare feet as he passed people frantically, shaking to his last bone, scared, he was scared, where should he go? Where—

Hongjoong sprint faster, choking on his cries as he rubbed the tears from his eyes helplessly, they kept pouring and pouring and everything hurt, hurt so bad his head, his eyes, his ribs were shredding his inside and he kept choking, he couldn’t fathom his bare soles scrapped on the rough surfaces of the streets.

He just wanted to go there— to see Seonghwa and fall into his arms— _but Mingi_ — was Mingi there? Could he look in Mingi’s eyes again? No… no… there was an unbearable ache in his chest and tears kept falling as he ran and ran with no amendment until his feet screeched to a halt.

He stood in front of the lit café house, filled with boisterous people and happy laughs, a total contrast to his rugged outer look, torn out from his cries, chest heaving terribly in his thin clothes and he looked… dirty with his bare feet he was yet to realize were sore and bleeding.

He searched for him, did Seonghwa exist— or was he a figment of his imagination as well?

He stepped in, people too busy to take notice of him, he looked around, taking measured breaths to calm himself, calm, calm Hongjoong calm… where was he…?

Hongjoong looked each person up, blood pumping his ears for a second. It felt like his surroundings deafened, like water in his ears; another wet trail slid down his pale skin and he hiccupped, he took another shaky step in, where was he…?

It was then a man exited a backroom, hair dark and curly, too long and messy, wearing the uniform of the café.

It played like slow motion when he turned around— “S-Seonghwa…?”

As if he heard him amidst the noise, he twisted around to face him. When their eyes met, his own immediately trailed down Seonghwa’s face… no… no… this wasn’t the Seonghwa in his memories— this Seonghwa was _ruined._

_Give me the journal—!_

Hongjoong’s stomach flipped, a sudden urge to throw up as more pain surged through his head and he doubled to the ground, boney knees made a horrible sound when they knocked against the shiny surface.

_What the fuck is this?!_

He gagged and tried to swallow the disgusting sour taste down his throat but it made him double more and he almost rested his forehead on the chill floor when he leaned down, tremor shakes rocking his frail form and he felt cold sweat damping his clothes, hair stuck to his forehead and he cried, cried so hard.

Seonghwa is real Hongjoong, l-look he is real— he gagged once again when he felt wetness on his hand, but there wasn’t anything when he looked at his it. His vision warped and deformed, when he blinked there was red, red red red red red red dripping dripping dripping down his fingers—

Panic blanketed him like a suffocating clutch, Hongjoong vomited on the ground as he shook and shook like he couldn’t control a single muscle in his body, was he breathing even— what have I done— what have I done… What have I done! It wasn’t red but _he could see blood on his hands._

Blood!— “There is blood can’t you s-see it! There is b-blood!” he screamed but he blinked and there wasn’t… and he blinked again and there it was flowing down his trembling hands.

As if that wasn’t sick enough; when he lifted his slanted vision to Seonghwa, Seonghwa’s face was covered in blood. He screamed as his vision once again deformed and more fractions resurfaced and he didn’t know if the screams were his own or the Seonghwa holding his messy face with his wet hands, his shirt was red, his neck was red and his face was painted by blood. 

His eyes. They were frightened beyond any words could describe— he blinked and the image disappeared and blinked and bleeding mortified Seonghwa was there in front of him cowering away—

What was real what was not, nothing made sense as he drowned deeper and deeper. He couldn’t wrap his head around the rapid terror cornering him— it didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense when his eyes tricked him, his ears were deaf, his brain deforming whatever he had in his head— everything blurred between falsity and realism. 

Then, a form crouched down in front of him; he knew it was Seonghwa but was he the Seonghwa from his fragments…? He was scared to look, what if Seonghwa was bleeding— he wanted to vomit again as he gagged but still refused to look— 

This was wrong. This wasn’t Seonghwa. It was all up in his hea— if these figments were real— if his memories were real then Seonghwa wouldn’t have any nasty blood on his face— the last time he left him he was clean, he was spotless with no fault and he got into that accident— Seonghwa wasn’t real, his memories weren’t real, nothing made any sense!!!! 

— this wasn’t real, it shouldn’t be— it mustn’t! 

Hongjoong wanted to escape out of his head, frightened and lost. He felt like a freak on the floor.

He stammered“N-No! You don’t know me— this must be some fucked up shit, your name i-isn’t Seonghwa— you don’t know m-mine, we n-never met, you d-don’t—” Yes! He wasn’t Seonghwa, who said his name was Seonghwa? He probably didn’t recognize him. They never met and this was a mere coincidence or something.

Seonghwa didn’t know him, Hongjoong begged “ _Please_ say it— s-say you don’t know me!” he didn’t he didn’t he didn’t— his name was probably something else. The accident must have fucked him up so badly he made up all of these— probably why he could see red soaking their clothes when there wasn’t— these weren’t real either. He was— wait— why his right hand scarred…?

“H-Hong…joong…”

No… No, _please…_

-

-

-

-

-

-

**Epilogue**

Mingi walked out of the police station, messy hair and dark hues apparent under his droopy eyes. Probably because he hadn’t had a proper sleep for the past ten days with his frequent visits to aid with the investigation. Now everything was done and he finally was over with his testimonies he could respire. 

The freezing weather of late-night assaulted him as he leaned on a brick wall just outside the building, letting his body slide down when his legs gave up on him from exhaustion. He crouched down, wrinkling his clothes more than they already were. When did he last had a proper shower? More importantly a proper sleep and a meal? He didn’t want to think about it, probably his last care right then. 

He took the cigarette packet out of his trench coat. It’s been a while but he needed it; three sticks left in there. He lightened one and inhaled it, a much-needed alleviation for the stress he was dealing with. He let the breath out and it emerged in a buff of cold air and smoke. He rubbed on his tired eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose when the dull headache kicked back in. God, he needed a tranquilizer or something. 

He inhaled a breath of smoke, kept it in his lungs as he rested his head back and closed his eyes. He opened them when footsteps caught his hearings. He let the breath out and opened his eyes. He trailed the shoes in front of him until he reached the face of the man towering over him.

“Yeosang.” He acknowledged the blonde man as he inhaled the last breath of the stick between his fingers then scrapped it on the concrete ground “What are you doing here?” he took out another cigarette. Yeosang crouched in front of him, reached a hand and ruffled his hair “Been looking for you.” Yeosang smiled sympathetically and Mingi leaned into the warm hand, a much-needed comfort for him “I thought you already returned home but I had to search for you when I didn’t find you there.”

“They just finished with me. But I don’t have any energy left to go home.” Mingi needed to pass out, the ashes falling off his forgotten burnt cigarette. “Come on, I will get you there.” Mingi noticed Yeosang was in his white lab coat, “Did you come from the hospital?” Mingi took his hand that aided him up “Yes, I waited for my shift to end so I can get you.”

“How is he?” 

Yeosang grimaced, “Hongjoong… He is still… hadn't woken up, I’m sorry.” Mingi’s sullen expressions didn’t change, he just helped himself into the car when Yeosang opened the door for him.

“Your hair roots are peaking,” Yeosang cracked a random conversation “Hadn’t had time to dye it.” The black roots were taking over the red “You should have just told me y’know?” yeah, because it was always Yeosang who bothered with his odd preference for hair color. “Thanks, maybe after I take a rest.”

The rest of the drive home was quiet aside Yeosang’s calming hums to the background music, Mingi was thankful for it and the sedatives he didn’t know why Yeosang kept in his car.

“Take care of yourself or I’m staying the night.” Mingi offered a tired smile, “Okay doc.” he saluted before closing the door on the frowning man.

He pressed the elevator button to his penthouse on the last floor. He got in the dim empty space and he took off his shoes, coat, and shirt, throwing them on the ground carelessly before he reached the long sofa in front of the glass curtain walls, viewing the busy city. He let himself crash down and curled on it, seeing part of his reflection on the windows and the starless sky beyond it.

How did it all lead to this? A question he had asked himself relentlessly. 

You were supposed to prevent it. That was the only thing required from you. You were supposed to keep everyone unharmed. To look after him and keep _him_ safe. 

Useless. You couldn’t keep him before and couldn’t keep him now.

A fuck up. A fuck up who keeps fucking everything.

“Hello, Yunho…” Mingi made the call he dreaded the most. It’s been ten days since he last saw them. Since he last visited the cafe house after he quit the part-time job. ‘Hi, Mingi.’ he probably hated him, he understood by the stiff voice. He couldn’t blame him even if he wanted to “Sorry for the late call…” Mingi’s voice was gruff from the lack of hydration and the amount of talk he made back at the interrogation. Yunho was hesitant before he replied ‘It’s fine, need anything?’

“Just…” Mingi’s stomach flipped nervously but he bit through it— 

“How is Seonghwa?”

-

-

-

-

What had led to this worst outcome?

-

-

-

**_FRACTIONS_**

To Be Continued

-

_Stay Awake._

**Author's Note:**

> Okay take a deep breath--  
> 
> 
> 1.
> 
> 2.
> 
> 3--
> 
> Now you are allowed to scream!
> 
> So many questions, so many mysteries, so many things that don’t make any sense! All those fractions will be found in the second part! Y’all gonna read the second part and you will want to return and read this once again to find the many things make more sense now! It’s all in there but you can’t see it now! Probably where my brain cells had gone to lmao.
> 
> This is currently my favorite story, I always wanted to write a dark mystery and I finally did it T__T I spent four months planning and adjusting and writing both parts lkgfkdjnkfdjf
> 
>   
> Follow me on my Twitter [@RRediKON](https://twitter.com/rredikon/status/1238947414008102913?s=21) for spoilers and future aus/edits/art and fangirling lmao, you can talk to me about it there all you want or if you prefer then comment here and we can scream about it together hehehe
> 
> This was originally supposed to be 20k but T__T Don’t forget to leave Kudos and Comments please, I kinda need them bcs this drained my soul lmao :’3 I really wanna hear what y’all think of this monster, talk to me about it uwus~ also any guess where this one is going? 


End file.
